


The Minor Conjunction

by MundyMorn



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982)
Genre: Alliances, Alternate Universe, Betrayal, Bonding, Canon Divergent, Court Games, Existential Crisis, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Horror, Hurt/Comfort, Original Skeksis characters, Politics, references to the comics and novel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-05 04:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 69,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19040896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MundyMorn/pseuds/MundyMorn
Summary: An alternate time, a different prophecy. The stars align, a minor conjunction occurs - and two new Skeksis are born, and their mere presence threatens the elder's rein.





	1. Mould You, Mildew

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a series of shorts and drabbles, out of chronological order, but posted so here to avoid confusion.

Mould You, Mildew

Quiet is a fickle word. It entails one thing but can mean a dozen more. ‘Quiet’ suggests silence in some places, pauses between breaths in others. Sometimes it just indicates a lack of unusual sounds. Its quiet today, but the village is still bustling. Its quiet in the forest, there’s no trees falling or wolves, but the crickets are still there. So background noise could, in some way, be considered a kind of ‘quiet’.

SkekSik decided he could do quite without background noise. The dinner hall was decorated yet somehow, like the rest of the castle, it still felt barren and bare. The table was overflowing with food, the spices and sugars of which were clogging up his beak. He was poised on the far side, between a rather mumbling fellow and another rather large one. In the centre, hissing quietly as he screwed a juicy slab of meat was the Emperor, at his side the Ritual Master, at the other the General. Thus was the unsaid pecking order...

It was a wonder no one was staring at the rather lean skeksis stooping down his chair; only his eyes peering over the table top to glare at his fellows as they ate. Their clothes shifted and shuffled with every inch they moved, and compared to his own they were extravagant. He preferred the ‘less is more’ but in no way was he humble. His purple-blue fleece and conspicuous collar were made of material that most creatures could only dream of requiring.

He was hungry, but the Architect didn’t want to eat. He glanced at the Emperor. Not too lean, not to tall, not to bulky, a perfect construction of a leader’s frame. SkekUng the General. The builder’s eyes narrowed as he watched him dip his unusually large beak into a vat of water. Bulky, broad, black-haired, once...perfect construction for a pain in the –

The Ritual Master was watching him. SkekSik found himself slowly sitting upright again, the icy eyes of the tall Skeksis bearing into him. The architect’s beak stiffened and he idly plucked a slab of meat from the plate in front of him, as the Chamberlain hummed quietly by his ear.

Ritual Master. Tall. Ice-eyed, annoyingly perceptive. Perfect construction for an opponent, and a checker. SkekSik eyed the wall, trying to ignore the way the Chamberlain scooted closer to his shorter self.

“Not long now.” He crooned, quietly. None but them heard it, and none but then knew what the slimy chamberlain was talking about. Stubbornly, SkekSik kept his eyes front, tearing into the meat he’d picked up.

SkekAyuk’s shoulder brushed his and knocked his hand off balance. No one was talking. They did not talk unless there were pressing matters at hand. But The Architect was beginning to realise that the Ritual Master wasn’t the only one watching him. SkekTek in particular had a gaze that lingered, scanning him up and down like a fresh batch of podlings. SkekSik could have brushed off getting a look from two of the smarter bunch, but then SkekOk the scroll-keeper and the treasurer sent him a glance.

_Something was wrong._

SkekSik wasn’t one to be afraid. Afraid wasn’t the right word. Skeksis were too shallow for such a thing. But the way the Chamberlain was crooning in his ear was beginning to put his nerves on end. He lifted a hand, old and bony, and stroked it down his alabaster collar. His beak, hooked uncomfortably on the top jaw, was grinding together with more force than usual.

SkekSil hummed again, idly twirling an instrument of cutlery. Finally, the architect gave into his prodding.

“Something on your mind, Chamberlain.”

“SkekSik.” He purred, gently, so that only they may here. At the beginning of the conversation, with the skinny architect opening his beak, the others had averted their gazes. “We are friends, are we not?”

This was not the time to be irritated, SkekSik mused. This was a time to humour and indulge. He wiped some gravy off on his sleeve (delighting the silent shriek that poor SkekEkt the ornamentals suffered at the torture of such lovely fabric) and turned his gaze to SkekSil.

“Of course, My Lord Chamberlain.”

_Pecking order._

The Chamberlain’s signature whimper came next. “Come to my wing after dinner, will you? There are things I wish to discuss.”

SkekSik eyed him. Then he smiled, and nodded.

...

What were they up to?

SkekZok left the lesser Skeksis, that is the less interesting and intellectual of the group, be. Most of the time. In an otherwise empty castle in an otherwise empty stretch of land, hacing no one to focus your suspicions on could be tiring. So, naturally, the skeksis schemed amongst themselves when there was no enemy to scheme against.

Lately, evil eyes had been landing on a certain architect.

When dinner was over, and the still half-eaten plates were removed by the irritatingly solemn slaves, The Ritual Master observed the Chamberlain leading the Architect into one of the halls. SkekTek, the scientist, was watching them too. Not in scrutiny, no, he was eyeing both of them with a malicious sort of look before hobbling back to his lab.

SkekZok wasn’t one for spying, but he’d make sure he knew what their conversation was about. Especially with the...talk going on in these times. He moved away, slow and straight-backed, to his quarters.

...

Yes, SkekSil had everything planned. Unbeknownst to his ignorant charge, it wasn’t just himself he’d be having an audience with tonight. The smaller Skeksis was following him, flashing a polite smile every now and again, but otherwise remaining silent as the Chamberlain ushered him along. In his quarters, SkekEkt and SkekAyuk would be waiting.

They entered his quarters, adorned with tables and chairs and other extravagant finery; carved stone walls and recess designed by SkekSik himself. When he spotted the ornamentalist and the gourmand waiting, each looking expectant and smug, his eyes widened a tad, quite like a mouse being ambushed. Then the shock gave way to his usual snarky demeanour.

“Didn’t know we were having a tea party. I would have acquired the gravy.”

SkekEkt was clearly fighting an involuntary shudder, scowling venomously at the architect. SkekSil wasn’t deterred. He slid over to a small tray sitting on a table top nearly, plucking up a flagon filled with wine.

“I have called my most  _trusted_ fellows to my side tonight.” He crooned, as SkekAyuk and SkekEkt beamed and eyed the architect like a pair of old vultures, “Because I believe we have many opportunities ahead. Mmmhmm.”

“Its about the new renovations.” SkekSik said, blunt as always. “You want to know who gets those parts of the castle once I’ve done fixing them.”

Some of the castle wings were falling apart. Thanks to some parchment, some math, and an army of podling builders, they were turning into very promising areas. But...

“We have the things we control, my friend, Architect.” ‘My friend’ was a step down from ‘lord’. SkekEkt had slid to his side, smoothing out a crease in his collar – the same one he’d made for him, but not out of any affection.

SkekSik knew better than to shove him off. That wasn’t political. He smirked, “Indeed. Tell me, SkekEkt, how are those girdles coming along?”

Before any argument could fester, SkekSil appeared, rather alarmingly as the ornamentalist jumped. He pressed a chalice into each of their hands with an oily beak – while SkekAyuk helped himself to the rest of the flagon. “I am Chamberlain, I have my duties. But he who has all the say in who is best suited to having more parts of the castle under their  _care_  is –“

“You.” SkekAyuk finished, slowly.

“The Emperor has a say.” SkekSik murmured, holding the chalice but refusing to take a drink.

“But you know best, and he takes that into account.” SkekEkt supplemented lightly. It was true. He was an architect, it was his field. When it came to walls and roofs and booby-traps, his word was law.

But favouring some – in this case three- as opposed to a certain General, Scientist and Ritual Master...

“I shall consider.” He said, lightly, and the trio looked near ecstatic. On them, the expression would have frightened both the young and old. “If you...aid me with something.”

“What are friends for?” SkekSil crooned, eyes narrowing mid-hum. SkekSik shrugged his shoulders, smirking back with genuine humour.

“If I give you these new wings, you must allow me to make adjustments that will work in my favour...and that only  _we_  know about.”

...

SkekUng cornered him the next night. One moment he was sauntering along, clad in blue and purple and black threading puffy enough to keep ice warm, the next he was up against the wall with a clawed fist around his neck.

He smirked up at the towering General. “Good evening, General.” He yipped.

“Listen here,  _swine._ ” Even when whispering, his voice sounded like a roar. “I need those areas. My new garthem must be contained where they can be of use.”

“Nothing has attacked us in centuries.” SkekSik shot back, grinning all the way. “And do not think for a second that you can fool me, General. You have other purposes, SkekTek too. We all do. But I decide.”

The grip on his neck tightened. “Mind the  _satin.”_

Someone cleared their throat.

SkekUng grumbled, slow and loud, and realised him. His bulky hide blocked his view of the newcomer until then. SkekZok had appeared, looking cold and unimpressed pure usual. SkekSik ran a hand along his throat. “Ritual Master.”

“Architect. We must speak.”

Wasn’t he popular today?

He slid by SkekUng, ‘accidently’ hitting his shoulder against his arm as he went by. He and the Ritual Master walked, painfully slow, down the barely lit corridors. For a while, silence reined.

“It does not concern me, what you do to placate your allies.” SkekZok said, finally. SkekSik stared ahead, eyes narrowing. “But you are given free rein because you know best. And there must be true usefulness that can be reaped from this. Not just your amusement.”

“The Emperor shall have the best and the grandest, for his purposes. I always make more than I plan so that I have left-overs to work with.” He grinned a little. “It is best to have too much than too little.”

“Hmm.” SkekZok eyed him suspiciously. They paused. Beside them, though a stony arch, lay the Crystal. The hum of its energy reached them, and swept through their bones even from here.

“You are on thin ice. You know this?”

He did not tell him this because of affection. None of them were affectionate.

“I am aware, sir.”

“You have been playing around too much. See that you remain useful.”

“I shall, Ritual Master. Do not worry.”

The Crystal watched, knowing full well that no one, not even SkekSik, could keep what was coming from happening.


	2. A Mediocre Conjunction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two suns align, with a not-so expected consequence.

The crack thundered through the castle. The lightning storm outside had raged all night, as it had done for thousands of years. But this particular clash was different. It made the very stone in which the castle was encased tremble, the floors vibrate, and it woke ever resident within, from the frailest podling slave, to the Skeksis Emperor himself.

After years of rather boring peace, sudden scares had become farfetched fiction to the Skeksis. Nothing had harmed them; nothing had attacked them, for decades. So the jolt that ran through their bodies when the noise woke them from their sleep almost killed them.

Silence sang through the castle next. The split world held its breath. SkekSil, the Chamberlain, had frozen, a whimper trapped in his throat as he lay beneath shabby blankets, eyes wide and blurred. SkekUng the General reacted very different; he let out an near intelligible bellow somewhere else in the castle – something along the lines of ‘who made that noise’ and promising to end the cause. SkekEkt and SkekAyuk were, of course, screaming. Just a little. All other parties were mostly too bemused and startled to make any noise.

But something was wrong. Yes, they all felt it.

That didn’t stop them taking the time to dress and adorn themselves. Whatever it was could wait. The Garthim hadn’t come to alert them, so the danger couldn’t have been too close. In a frantic shuffle, they all made their way to the Crystal Chamber from their respective quarters.

SkekUng found himself moving into the same hallway as SkekTek, who was hobbling along slower than usual. His more mutilated body meant that getting up took longer. He hadn’t had time. The General bore a snarl his way, needing to take out his frustration on  _something._ SkekTek huffed, rather violently, but neither uttered a word. They moved along, and SkekZok, appearing by all standards as someone who hadn’t been startled awake at all, no sir, joined their walk.

Then, the Crystal sang. The noise, like a soft screech, called to them through the castle. SkekZok’s head lifted. SkekTek and SkekUng exchanged an open-jaw gawk.

“The Crystal –“

SkekSil, who had been smoothing out his sleeve per request of the insightful SkekEkt, pivoted his elongated head towards the noise. He, the latter and SkekAyuk had met up on their way to the chamber, too. SkekAyuk lifted his shoulders in a bewildered shrug, and they quickened their pace the best they could.

But neither group made it there first. The other six, including the Emperor himself, had made it there before them, and where hovering in the tunnels and staring at something near the shaft below the Crystal.

The purple gem gleamed, quietly, in the stale air and heat. SkekUng pushed his way through, SkekSil and SkekEkt peered around SkekAyok’s bulky frame.

All beaks parted, and a wave of shock swept through the twelve.

A figure was lying on the stone floor, face down, just barely getting to their knees. Another lay on its back, shivering. A third on its side, curled into a trembling ball. A fourth, furthest away and blocked by the crystal, already on its feet.

The Skeksis watched, almost horrified, as the first figure they’d seen drew itself up. It stood, groggy and clumsy, and lifted its arms. Four of them, two smaller than the other pair. Green-blue body, silvery beak, lean, thin and moving as smoothly as a stream.

Another skeksis stood before them, or at least, the image of what they’d been upon their emersion. On the cusp of adulthood. The youth blinked, eyes unfocused, and then suddenly his eyelids snapped open. His whole body jarred like he’d been slapped awake.

“Wha...?”

Twelve faces stared back at him, alarmed. The alarm shifted, slowly, and darkened into something else.

The youth looked down at himself, his feet, his hands, his body. His hands clamped against his cheeks in alarm; the other pair rising in fright. “...!” A muffled gasp escaped him.

A soft cream hand reached out and seized a wrist. An UrRu, tall and lean and strong, had dragged itself to his side, slow shock melting onto his face. His hair was long and curled at the tips, just like his own straggly locks.

Pale eyes met his own, and the UrRu murmured something, sounding...lost.

The Crystal sang once more. It broke the spell, shattered the shock. The boy slammed all four hands over his ears, cringing and ducking away from the noise. The other two had gotten to their feet. But the twelve originals had no time to get a good look at them.

The first UrRu moved, pulling at his counterpart as a clash of lightning crept through the hallways. The Skeksis moved towards them in a wave, bewildered but angry murmurs ascending into yells and shouts.

The youth stumbled after the UrRu, allowing himself to be led away. The other two had already fled into the empty halls. One of them sped ahead, the other stumbled, hands pawing at the floor as if he were –

“Stop them!”

“GARTHIM!”

A click. A scurry. Something big, black, and glazed in the dim purple light blocked their way. The Crystal shrieked, it didn’t sing, the noise was horrible and everyone present cringed and ducked. The Garthim reached, and in a flurry of black the Skeksis youth felt his counterpart’s grip tear away. One moment he was there, then he’d been knocked away.

Where was he?

_Where am..._

A shriek rippled from the hall where the other two had already fled. The other young Skeksis.  He was screaming. His counterpart lay on his knees, hands clutching the ground, pupil-less eyes watching nothing. His head panned across the chamber.

“How can this be?” A crackly voice chimed, loud and affronted.

“How did they find us?”

“They cannot have contact – how can it have happened again?”

His legs gave out. Legs. Arms. He knew these words but he didn’t know anything else.

Then, instinct, as confused and angry as all the rest, took over. With a hiss, he lunged at the Garthim. He was battered away.

Pain. Pain was new. He wasn’t ready for it. A unison of growls and odd raspy noises came next, a response to his escapade. He lay on the floor, shivering, as his mind tried to grasp what was happening. He could sense others, other beings, coming closer.

Then, he felt something. Warm and shaky, a hand touching his face. He opened his eyes. The other skeksis youth – his counterpart – lay beside him, blank eyes wide and brow furrowing.

“You...” A voice, low and soft, murmured.

The young skeksis tilted its head.

“...You?”

He lifted his hand. The other followed. Their fingers bobbed together, curious. The other couldn’t see. He was blind. The word echoed through the blue-green one’s mind, familiar, as if it had already known.

_I know you, it said. You aren’t me, but part of me knew the full you._

Something cold, crooked and sharp seized his shoulder. Towering over them, shrouded in darkness, were others. He saw beaks, he saw a flurry of magnificent but decaying clothing, and he heard a bombardment of hisses and snarls. Horror ran through his skin, making it crawl. The UrRu lifted his head, listening to the awful noises.

Another hand gripped his arm and he was hoisted up. A yelp, frightened, tore from his beak. He struggle but could get free. Whatever motive, whatever intention – perhaps the original Skeksis themselves didn’t know exactly – wasn’t good. Loathing had swarmed over intelligent thought. Memories they didn’t want.

They wanted it to end, and to pretend it hadn’t happened.

Miles away, the old mystics were waking up, and sensing the change. They could feel it.

The youth would have probably died, and maybe the elders would regret it – perhaps they’d lament that there could have been opportunity, a change in the way of things. But that wouldn’t happen.

The UrRu, heavy brow wrinkling, stood up to his full height, a diamond among coal, and lunged. His longer arms wrapped around the other youth and with a powerful –and unexpected – yank, he’d snatched him away from the furious grasp of the elders.

SkekUng tumbled back, caught off guard and thus thrown off balance. He collided terribly with SkekZok and the Emperor – SkekSil ducked away, stooping behind the muddle, eyes fixed on the pair.

The UrRu, clearly sightless but moving quickly, dashed between SkekOk and SkekShod. His tail struck against the former and sent him sprawling, too.

He was practically carrying the young Skeksis, though both could barely walk let alone carry one another. Nevertheless, they shuffled into the dark hall and vanished from sight.

SkekSil’s eyes narrowed.

“Mmm- _mmm_ -mmm...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here SkekSept and UrSaat, and the two who vanished - are SkekHdax and UrOnze.


	3. Not A Bad Idea At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Witnessing dinner doesn't help the new arrival's nerves.

A quiet, airy hum was stemming through the castle calls, courtesy of the Crystal Shaft and the boiling liquid festering beneath. Like none-pulsing heartbeat, it vibrating through the stone as the two drew nearer and nearer to the Crystal Chamber. The higher halls broke off into overhanging ledges, but the two daren’t venture out into such an open place, not yet. They ducked by the archway, hidden behind the stone. One pressed their back against the rock, the other huddled by their knee, clutching the back of their robe like a leash.

Then, slowly, a silvery beak poked around the arch. Steam was rising up from the shaft, a foul smell like surfer. Then, slowly, a shadow draped itself across the wall below, and he ducked back, kneeling down as far as his legs would allow in one swift motion. He lifted his finger, trembling, to his beak, though his companion couldn’t possibly see it. “Sh...”

The Ur-Ru nodded, vaguely, as he peered around the stone again. Below, two of...them...had wandered into the Chamber, side by side. Not the jumpy, noisy two that chattered and bubbled with laughter, but a small one barely bigger than himself with funny glass circles on his face. And the other, taller, with a straight back, so straight it looked painful.

The tall one, with a magnificent feather sporting from the back of his collar, eyed the Crystal as he drew past. The youth slipped back again, flattening himself against the wall and pulling his knees up t his chest. The UrRu mumbled something to himself, too quietly enough to be heard.

“I have checked the dates, all the recordings. Nothing about the stars signalled any of this.” A shrill voice cut through the air. The youth peeked back around the arch, past the ledge, at the two below. They’d stopped just outside the chamber below, venturing into the hall opposite.

“Nothing?” A sharp, cold voice returned, rather darkly.

“No.” The scroll keep adjusted one of his many spectacles, “Perhaps the scientist will have a better theory about the division of the body...my accounts lack in that department...”

His voice trailed away as they moved on. The two huddled youths listened, until the silence returned. Then, patting his companions shoulder, the young skeksis took the lead, tip-toeing along as the UrRu followed, holding onto the back of his robe.

Onto the ledge. Hmm. Bit high. With wobbling legs, and ducking low so his hands could leap out to steady him if he fell, he came to the edge of the overhang and peered at the Crystal.

He tugged his companion there, too, gently, and guided his arm out to it. But they couldn’t reach. It had been his idea to come find it.

“ _I HATE YOUR WHIMPER.”_

They almost jumped out of their skins, even the UrRu. The two dove back, squashing themselves down on the overhanging ledge so that they felt more like throw rugs than people, and they heard three sets of shuffling feet break into the chamber below;

“Hmm!”

“If I have to listen to you two bicker all the way to the Dinner Hall,” A throaty voice, on the verge of breaking like someone recovering from a back windpipe infection, cut in, “I will toss one of you into the shaft.”

There was a distinctive shovel as one of the three moved further away from said shaft. A loud snort came next, as the trio passed directly  _beneath them_. The young skeksis’s chest began rising and falling rapidly, his breath tightening. The UrRu’s hand found his and held it tight.

“Hmph! As if you could aim right with one eye!”

A snarl. A hiss. A growl. The two tensed, waiting for them to pass. But they’d stopped, rounding on each other, threateningly - as the third with the mewling voice watched with a smug chortle. The youth tried to focus on something; the warmth of the UrRu’s hand, the stone against his stomach, the hum of the Crystal Shaft, but not his hammering heart beat.

Then, in inhaling breath, and a huff.

One of the growling pair and continued on, “Bah! I don’t have time for you, _General_.” His voice crackled, becoming slightly deeper once the air broke through his throat at a certain octave. The change was startling.

“MmmMMMmmm...”

The youth was certain, as a chill crawled up his spine, that he wouldn’t forget that whimper anytime soon.

He raised his head, just a little, so did his companion, as the three figures disappeared into the same hallway the other two had gone.

“...They go...” The other murmured, hearing them depart the same way, too. The youth got up on one knee, back arched, peering at the Crystal.

He knew that word. It popped into his head whenever he looked at it. It was very shiny, too, and with all the bubbling heat beneath it, he wondered if it was warm. He couldn’t touch it.

He could jump, a funny thought in his brain suggested, but with a quick glance down at the abyss beneath it, he decided that no, that wasn’t a good idea...

“We go...” He turned his head and let out a small squawk. His companion was, well, climbing down. To the chamber below, having shuffled back along to the wall of the cavern to begin his dissent. Bewildered, but terrified of the tiny distance between them already, the young skeksis scampered after him, hopping down in a wobbly kind of scramble.

His companion slowly unlatched himself from the wall and began moving towards the direction he’d heard all the shuffling feet, one hand automatically reaching out to find his. They clung, arm in arm, and tip-toed with ducked heads to the hallway.

Halls were always dark, chambers more lit. Outside, the crackling sound waited like a beast for its prey. The youth’s breath quickened, but the UrRu simply tugged him along, firmly but gently.

They squashed themselves against a wall, again, quickly, as some tiny beings ambled past in a slow, vacant line. Hooded, with funny, mushy faces...

Grimacing, the skeksis youth let his companion lead the way until –

A grunt.

They dove into another hall, curling against the wall as yet another figure strode by, step, plod, step – his back was burdened by a strange headdress, like a spider’s web, strings wrung between off prongs, a cloth wrapped around his head.

He hadn’t seen them. Alone, he continued forward, scowling and muttering irritably to himself. The two waited until he was long gone...before the UrRu began leading them after him. The other youth cringed, stopping and trying to pull him back, but his companion was instant.

Quivering more than slightly, he allowed himself to be pulled along. He focused on his steps, one after the other, his legs felt unsteady. They shadowed along the wall, hands raised to guide their way. Then, seeing a blur of light, and pushed his companion down to crouch by the wall again. Another chamber entrance broke out a few yards ahead, bathing the hall in an unusual bright light.

“Aaah,  _land strider pie_  –“

“ _I_ requested that –“

“Bah! Watch your arm, you whimpering wart!”

“ _Mmmhmm_ , by all means, General –“

Oh no, this was bad, they’d done the opposite of what they’d intended. But then again, he got the feeling that the UrRu had planned this, what with his curious lifting brow and tilting head. The youth’s chest heaved in a spasm-like breath, but then he inhaled something –

The smell –

Words, words he knew but didn’t understand, leapt into his head. Like hammering hail.  _Spice. Salt. Food. Wine._

He sniffed, gently, and the aroma almost knocked him over. Curious, despite his hammering pulse, the scrawny skeksis drew closer to the open arch...and peered in; his face just an inch around the rock.

The sight he saw wasn’t exactly a pleasant one. The table was finally furbished, the food looked ravishingly well prepared – but the dozen sitting in a slightly curving line of chairs made it all very unworthy of the term. He grimaced. They were tearing and dribbling, snapping at meat like animals, the sound of ripping meat would make any decent creature’s skin crawl. And, just to make it all the more boggling, now and again – after one of them had viciously stuffed a pastry between their teeth – they’d dab their beaks daintily with a napkin.

One of them reached for a pepper grinder, eyes narrowed like he was hanging a hook to catch a fish. Another, the one with the glinting false eye and the tubes in his arm - caught his wrist, “Ha!” He snatched the pepper away for himself, leaving the other – the one with the specs – to sneer at him.

The big one with the booming voice seemed to be doing his best to ‘accidently’ elbow the mewling one in the head.

“Ahem.”

The tall one, the one with the cold, pale eyes and the sharp voice, was speaking. Several of the beings closest to him turned their heads, “It appears to me that the four younglings.” He bit off the end of his meat slice with a deliberate snap, “Have escaped the castle.”

The young skeksis felt a terrible thrill in his heart.

“The garthim would have found those scrawny whelps if they went anywhere near the castle foundation!” The loud one blasted back, his jaw half-tangled with some kind of pastry.

The skeksis in the centre brought his sceptre down with a loud and sharp  _clunk,_  ending the argument in its waking moments. The others stiffened, mouths still full, the air going silent. The youth frowned, slowly, interested. That one, the oldest looking one with the pretty stick. Was he...?

“I will not have jabbering while I enjoy my meal.” He hissed, sourly, dangerously quiet. “Ritual Master, General, you will both attend to this matter  _afterwards.”_

The Ritual Master bowed his head, once, while the Garthim Master growled, but relented, instead focusing his frustration on a bone nearby. He snapped it in two, and with the noise the others resumed their dinners as well.

Castle, the youth’s mind murmured. Get out of the castle. But those things – black things, big, clinking, sore when the hit. They would be there.

“They must have  _done_ something to trigger the conjunction.” The glass-eyed on was sneering, slowly, eyeing the food at the end of his fork, “Such a minor settling of stars  _couldn’t_ have split them on their own.”

“There was only two.” The whimpering one chimed from nearby, dabbing his cheek with a napkin, “Hmmm...Perhaps it was easy for the suns to split them apart.”

A wave of unease made the young skeksis shudder. He didn’t under – no, wait, something – something just below the skin, his thoughts wouldn’t...wouldn’t...

It was strange, like he was forgetting something. A part of him knew what they meant, what they spoke of, but the explanation trying to build itself in his mind kept falling short, like roots spreading only to stop...incomplete. Missing...bits...

He pressed his palms against his eyes.

A hand gripped his wrist, strong. He pulled his fingers away and saw his UrRu companion was grimacing, too, and shaking his head. Pulling at him. Time to go. He’d apparently decided they’d heard enough.

Feeling nauseous, but terribly relieved, he was about to follow when another voice started muttering –

“They could be useful, sire;” The class-eyed one was murmuring, “Such raw and vital essence...”

“ _I_  will decide, soon enough...”

Despite himself, he risked another peek around the arch, brow furrowing in uneasy interest. Just then, a small...mushy face wandered past them, completely ignoring the two huddling outside the dining chamber, carrying a bowl filled with funny black fluffy things. Then another came down the hall, balancing a plate on his head covered in small, round pieces of cake.

The UrRu silent plucked one off the plate, soundlessly. The little creature didn’t even notice it was gone. The young skeksis blinked, before stifling a confused giggle and plucking one of his own.

“Finally, desert!” A shrill voice sounded from within.

He tried to risk another look, curious despite himself, but then he saw his companion had dropped the last half of his cake. “...”

There was a clang from inside the dining chamber, and high-pitched squiggling noises and several yelps.

The young skeksis broke off half of his cake and placed it in his companion’s hands –

“Who said  _you_  could get more...?!”

He peered around again, frowning now. The frown dissolved into alarm when he saw the scene. A mushy creature was lying face-down on the floor, the plate it was carrying sitting on the edge of the table. He stared at it, confused. The bulky one with the round beak, who had been with the screechy one before, was glaring at it from the edge of the table. Like it was being annoying by lying there.

The loud one, big and dark and scowling, turned his head and gave a gruff noise of impatience.

His eyes shifted at the wrong moment. They landed on the youth, just barely visible at the doorway’s corner, and his eyes bulged.

_“RARH!”_

The shapeless bark of fury alerted all present, loud, sharp, and all heads turned. The young skeksis’ heart almost stopped and his eyes widened in horror.

“The whelp!” The spectacled one shrieked.

Their faces were horrible, bore in violent snarls, teeth barred and hissing, hands raising even from meters away with a wish to  _claw_.

He sprang off the balls of his feet, seizing his companion clumsily about the arm and sprinting down the hall.

Furious yelps and yells followed him like an entourage. Yipping, tearing at the air, as vicious as feral dogs. He quickened his pace, down the dark hall, turn the corner, breath hitching in quivering lungs. Their footsteps echoed forward with a ring.

Inside the chamber, the elders had leapt to their feet, chalices and plates toppling over in their haste. SkeUng had tossed the empty water bowl at the doorway, but missed by a mile. It hit the stone floor with an ear-splitting crash.

“Oh...” The UrRu murmured, as his legs sped along rather impressively despite his stooped posture. “That sounded dangerous...”

His companion made a shrill noise, like he’d gagging on his own breath, before they turned the corner and dove back into darkness.

“Find that runt –  _NOW!”_

_..._

Suffice to say, it had never been this quiet at the dining table. The semi-curved surface was swarming with plates, bowls and dishes of unfathomably complicated meals, courtesy of the gluttonous gourmand huddled at one end, and the various little podlings carrying more dishes around over their heads - so that their masters didn’t have to  _get up_  to reach the plates on the other end of the table top.

 The chewing and snapping still went on, and the wilted mumblings of the ornamentalist fussing over whether handling prune sauce was worth risking a stain on his pretty sleeve, but aside from that the meal was...far more subdued. Even SkekUng hadn’t started a bicker. The Chamberlain’s whimpers were barely –  _barely_  – noticeable. If one didn’t know any better, and didn’t mind their own business, they could’ve said that SkekOk was fiddling with his food. Prodding it was a sharp finger, but not eating the nice slab of meat. It was a good thing the scroll master was so small, he’d rather die than be caught appearing  _forlorn_.

SkekZok eyed the various beaks poking out from the line, lifting a skewered morsel to his teeth without breaking his gaze. It was as if he were watching, waiting, for someone to break the silence, and perhaps unleash some of the pent-up tension hovering irritably over their heads.

SkekSil tilted his head, also peering around at his fellows. They pointedly ignore his gaze. SkekSil began drumming the fingers of his working hand along the table-top, disregarding the podling that offered him some toffee rolls.

It grew quieter. Even SkekEkt had stopped murmuring; now nibbling on his pick, pale eyes flickering back and further between SkekUng, the ritual master and the Emperor – the three who looked the most high-strung, and tense. But not in the usual way.

Finally, that quiet gave way to silence. SkekShod was glowering suspiciously at the others, SkekAyuk, his beaks still stuffed, glanced around. They could all pretend they didn’t see each other’s almost uncertain looks, but it was all folly. SkekUng dropped his half-eaten morsel back onto the tabletop with a decisive clatter.

SkekNa huffed.

“Enchanting meal.” The ornamentalist murmured, not nearly loud enough to shatter the quiet. But they knew what was really on their minds, shared like a hive mentality and festering in their already woebegone brains. It jarred them, again, whenever they thought about it. They simply couldn’t get used to the idea that...

Two days before, a minor conjunction had swept overhead, barely noticed. It wasn’t the collecting of wayward stars, however, that had brought such quiet tension. No, it was what the little conjunction had done. Two silly urskeks, appearing from nowhere like a recurring nightmare from long ago, had unwittingly split themselves upon the beams of the Dark Crystal.  

They had many a thing to deal and burden themselves with, now this. A horrid, horrid reminder. Seeing the newly born skeksis –  _the boy_  – it put them on edge. Awful, terrible little thing with big, blinking eyes and quickened breath. It shouldn’t have ever come about, or existed. How dare he?

How dare  _it._

And what would it  _mean?_

“How did it even happen?”

The voice was the scroll keeper’s, ever informative, ever stating the obvious. Upon seeing his fellows eyeing him down, he lifted a hand to adjust his spectacles and hastily stabbed through a slab of meat. He emitted a croak that may have been at attempt at clearing his throat.

“Hmph.” SkekZok ran his a napkin down his beak, claws digging into the poor, softened fabric. “That no longer matters. What is to be done, that is the matter.”

“Both of those little worms are unworthy of being here.” SkekUng growled, in probably the most level, ‘quiet’ tone he’d ever harboured. “Little snivelling runts, we should twist their necks before they gain their legs!”

The Emperor slammed his sceptre down, and all parties veered around to face him. SkekEkt dropped his toothpick into a bowl of sauce and ducked away madly to avoid the resulting splatter. “Eee!”

“ _I_  am Emperor, I will decide.” He rasped, viciously, making several of them wince, “We will find the two trespassing grubs and have them dragged before our feet – then we shall see what is to do be done –“

“Sire...” SkekTek made a move for a suggestion, but upon broadening the talk by speaking up, the tension-riddled spell holding all the others crumble at last.

“Awful little...thing.” SkekEkt muttered, bitterly. Able to run around and such and such, in such terrible clothes. Unworthy of being deemed clothes...

“They came here for a reason, obviously...” SkekOk drawled, inquisitively picking at his beak, though something wavered in his voice – worriedly. “Perhaps they sought – sought what power we’d collected.”

Wrong thing to suggest.

The mood turned sour and the unease lifted through the proverbial roof. The grumbling and growling became an ambient noise, like rainfall. SkekTek leaned forward, raspy voice mangling the air like a tangle of tubes; “They may have come for the  _crystal._  Not many worlds are crystal –based...”

SkekZok arched a brow, about to reprimand both of them for fear mongering at a time like this, and to tell the scientist in question that he was just that, a scientist, not an astronomer and they needed to stop stating what they already knew –

 _“No.”_  The Emperor snapped, his voice a snarl that bit the dank air, “They have no place, and no power, in this court, and they never  _will._  They are not one of us by law, and they shall be treated as such – intruders. Whether they live or not depends on how much use they are to us.”

SkekTek pointedly smirked. SkekAyuk and SkekEkt exchanged a long-distance look.

The scientist leaned forward, closer to the Emperor side, though this did nothing to muffle his words, “Sire – their essence could be ten times the amount of a gelfing’s!”

SkekSo’s eyes narrowed, but he made no indignation just yet that he’d agreed to this or not. The statement, however, sent another sweep of mutters through the rest –

“Is...Is that the same? They do not count as us, I suppose, but –“ SkekOk was cut off by SkekUng’s growl.

“They do not count, so it does not matter! They were stupid enough to come trespassing into  _OUR_ domain –“

“You see agitated, dear General.” SkekSil noted by his elbow, smirking openly with slit-like eyes, “Do not tell me you feel threatened by someone half your size? Though in your case, most things half your size are –“

The bone the Garthim Master had been gnawing on early barely missed the Chamberlain’s head. A sharp hiss from the Emperor ended the quarrel. The general snorted, loudly, and tossed the bone over his shoulder as SkekSil hurried back to his seat, the scientist chortling at his back. Such a shame violence against another skeksis was forbidden.

“If the creatures outside these walls find out that new skeksis have arrived.” SkekNa was drawling, all of a sudden, scratching at the side of his cheek, the one beneath the eye-patch. “Will they feel less...passive?”

SkekSo did not appreciate this summery, and the burning look he sent the slave master was enough to make grown men cower. He looked away, pretending to occupy himself with his now cold soup.

“Bah! The gelfings may have seen it that way, but they are gone. And the podlings are too  _stupid_ and the mystics too brainless.” SkekSo waved a withered hand. Indeed, since the gelfing’s destruction twenty years ago, there wasn’t much of a world to rule. They’d been the ‘major race’ once. Now it was the podlings, the odd annoying things like Ograh here and there, and the mystics. It was rather boring, he mused – but safety was prioritized over pleasure, any day...

“Twenty years...” SkekSil crooned, to himself, as if reading his thoughts. He often did that.

The Crystal sang. The rippling, sharp, echoing sound like the call of a bat. Whatever was left of their appetites evaporated. It would have been an alarming sight; it the podlings had any sense of consciousness left they’d have been disturbed at the way they skeksis had abandoned their meal.

SkekSo’s eyes were unusually wide. “The crystal.”

The tension was back, and they were all on their feet in a maddened spasm of limbs too clumsy to be called a walk. SkekEkt especially looked very worse for wear, the only ones keeping the anxiety from their faces were the Emperor, SkekUng and SkekZok – though ‘anxiety’ usually came out as a mangled form of anger, bewilderment and derisiveness. All of their emotions filtered out that way.

The walk to the crystal was a silent one, not counting the muttering and grumbles and flustered hisses.

They made it to the Crystal Chamber; SkekSo batting the others out of the way so he could arrive there first. He turned his head, aged beak swerving, and the image accumulating within the centre of the hovering gem became clear.

The image had to have come from a channelling crystal bat, as the image was moving from side to side like an unbalanced eye. SkekEkt made a noise like he’d swallowed his own shriek.

Because it wasn’t outside the castle, it was inside – the sewers far below. How the bat had gotten stuck in there they’d never know (SkekShod was trying not to look too suspicious, actually - )

One of the waifs was there, slowly climbing through the damp, trickling stalagmites protruding from the floor. The dark shrouded his features, but the outline left no room for a mistake.

“The sewers – they will escape!” The General bellowed, swinging an arm around mid-turn, “GARTHIM!”

“Block the exits!”  SkekSo ordered behind him shrilly, “Now!”

“How could it have gotten so far? How did it know the way?” SkekOk mused, sounded on the verge of unease. This uncertainty caught like wildfire. Contagious disease-carrying wildfire.

They’d never admit it, but skeksis were paranoid beings. Any shred of threat and they’d want it dead, gone, or under control. So this potential threat (that was currently stumbling around like a newborn chick...) just wouldn’t do at all.

SkekSil wasn’t blustering indignantly, like the image was an insult to him, and neither was SkekZok or the scientist. The three of them were...pleased, in a way. They had a location. The whelp could be found.

And this, SkekSil mused inwardly, was a brilliant opportunity.

The youth wandered out of view, and for a moment, a pause riddled the group. The Garthim had been dispatched, yet the image hadn’t faded. SkekSo arched a brow.

_CRA-a-a-a-CK._

Something had hit the crystal bat, and it slumped onto its side, dead. The image disappeared. Silently, the beaked reptiles exchanged blank, empty looks, as the crystal ceased to sing.


	4. Now There Are More Than Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SkekHdax makes an appearance.

 

The chamber was lit, rather serenely, by dozens of candles, more of which were being igniting at that moment. Outside, the rain was thick and the clouds were thicker still, the lightning had subsided during the week, but the storm remained behind the shroud of vapour. The scroll master’s dwellings housed tables upon tables; circular and cavern-like, like the inside of a fruit the recesses were framed by curving arches in the walls. Adjusting one pair of the many specs sat on his beak, he blew out the match once the last candle was alight. He preferred working at night.

Picking up his quill, he resumed his writing, pausing ever now and then to dip the nib into a pot of ink. For a long while, he repeated this action, write, dip, scribble. The sound was calming, the candles rippling uneasily in the stale air.

_Clunk._

His hand paused, glaring at the page until his eyes blurred. He then peered about, indignant, though his head didn’t turn. His beak was so close to the page during writing that he could’ve been stuck on it. “...”

With a small huff, he went back to his work.

They’d all be on edge since the...incident with the new skeksis and UrRu. Two of them, they were certain of; the teal boy and the blind one. But the other two had vanished from the castle. Thus they had no answers...

His thoughts trailed away from that regrettable night and back to his scrolls.

Then, again. A clunk. He paused, ink dripping off the end of his quill. He turned his long head, panning it along his dwelling. He couldn’t see anything, and yet –

He placed the quill back into the ink bottle and stood up, slowly making his way into the centre of the chamber. The candles swayed gently as he passed by. There weren’t many hiding places in here, anything scuttling about would be seen easily. If one of SkekTek’s animals had escaped again –

_Rattle._

He stiffened.

Theoretically, he could call for the garthim. He could – leave this room, slowly and quietly. He could stand his ground and toss it out himself.

Or he could just investigate and assure himself that it was nothing. That sounded rather insane, so he simply stood there, for a moment, eyeing the place. Then, one of the tables chattered, like it had been struck. The various ink bottles trembled like they’d been brushed by a gust of air. The skeksis stared, eyes wide, then scowled. If this was some fool’s trick, aiming to make a jester out of him, they’d better think again –

He drew close, curious despite himself, though his annoyance had clouded any apprehension he had. He clutched the sheet strung over the counter-top and pulled it back –

**_“Hhhssssss!”_ **

SkeOk recoiled like he’d been burnt.

There, huddled between two neighbouring tables against the wall, shrouded in the dark the candle-light couldn’t reach, was –

The skeksis youth.  _But not the right one._

He’d seen the other one, teal feathers, small, fragile, as weak as a babe, this one was curled up, but it was taller, bigger, in the dark he saw a pair of deep, blurry brown eyes and white teeth bore in a snarl. Growling.

It leaped. SkekOk threw himself back as its legs hit the table-top, knocking them over, toppling dozens of quills, scrolls and bottles of ink that shattered loudly against the floor. It landed on all fours, crouching like an otter, skidding across the ink-laced stone before kicking off into the hall with a throaty, distorted yowl.

It was gone in a blur of cream, gold and bronze, disappearing into the dark hallway. The scroll keeper lay against one of the few still-standing tables, a hand over his chest, heart hammering hard enough against his feeble ribs to break the bone. One of his pairs of spectacles had slipped off balance.

“...Wh-wh...?”

 

....

The thing about the castle that made most of skeksis want to give the architect a good boot to the side was that it had so many blasted halls. And  _pillars._ Well carved, of course, with just enough stonework to please the eye (in their minds) but long halls meant a lot of walking. Now, walking wouldn’t be so bad, tolerable even with such thick adornments and heavy ornaments. It was walking  _together_  that created problems. It wasn’t even past evening, and SkekSil was having to duck away from the slave master’s hook. “MMmmmM!”

“Quiet!” SkekUng was a good few meters behind them, thankfully enough.

“The Emperor will hear you.” SkekEkt sang from up ahead. His shrill chime was probably doing just that this very moment, allowing the Emperor to hear them. SkekAyuk was ambling along behind him, glaring over a bulbous shoulder in indignation. SkekNa scoffed, the sound resembling a squawk mostly,

“I’d quieten if this wretch would mind his own business!”

“Obviously, it is the Chamberlain’s fault.”

“How quaint, that you must all take a side over me.” The slightly – regal voice of the skeksis in question drawled, his eyes slits, though his smile still very much in place. It could have been carved there. For a while, they fell into silence.  SkekSil whined irritably to himself. The past week had been...hectic, to say the least, tension high. It was incredibly pesky. Oh, he longed for the times before all of this mess; even  _SkekUng_  was more bearable then...

Perhaps.

He’d been thinking up a wittier comment when it happened. Down the hall, between himself, the slave master, and the two chatterboxes up ahead, something...clanged. In the shrouded corner admits the pillars. The hall leading to the Chamber of Light. But, a quick glance affirmed that SkekTek the scientist wasn’t making an appearance. Nor a slave tripping over its own skirts. “Hmmm.”

SkekEkt glanced sideways at the noise, and then continued jabbering away to SkekAyuk. SkekNa kept his single eye on the spot for another moment before disregarding it also.

SkekSil risked a look over his shoulder at the Garthim Master, taking up the rear. He smirked. It hadn’t appeared that he’d heard, how unfortunate –

“AAAAAAHHHRGH –“

SkekEtck was screaming. SkekSil’s head spinning around, SkekNa’s whole body jarring and SkekUng’s near comical look of shock happened all at once. The ornamentalist had flung himself back, colliding sharply with the Gourmand, and as the former three scurried forward  _they saw the cause._

A pair of milky, blanched, pupil-less eyes popping in a cream coloured head pulsed with fury, mad fury, the creature snarled at them, a throaty, sharp and powerful growl that rattled the entire hallway, somewhere between reptilian and avian in nature. A mangled tongue, white teeth bore back in a growl. The hunched-over being’s shape was all too recognisable – a skeksis.

Crystal Preserve them, they’d forgotten the other one. The young skeksis lunged forward, all four arms extending out towards the terrified ornamentalist, clutching at the hem of his robes and he let off another screech, throwing himself back.

SkekAyuk was yelling, too, now, as the wretch came closer, snapping at him. SkekSil stepped back, but when he did the skeksis’s head veered towards him, lips quivering in an inward growl. Hound-like. SkekNa had his hook out, but looked about as ready to fight it as the chamberlain did.

A mangled hiss and the youth hurting towards them. The two’s eyes broadened in alarm and then –

SkekUng appeared between, throwing them aside with either arm. “ **RARGH!”**

The wretch skidded to a halt but didn’t back off, snapping at him. SkekSil scurried around to rejoin SkekEkt (practically going to pieces, head in his hands) and SkekAyuk, “Get it, General!”

“Awful, awful!” SkekEkt wailed.

“Snap that waif’s kneecaps!” SkekNa bellowed from the opposite sideline. The little terror in question, far bigger than his fellow youth from before, lunged again, leaping up and try and get a grip on the General’s shoulder. The Garthim Master threw them up and over his shoulder, sending him flying. This ignited a brief cheer, until the younger landed perfectly behind him, crouching lithely like a feline.

On all fours they drew near again, a growl bubbling in their throat, bronze-gold hair and feathers catching the dim lighting of the outer hall. It stood up to its full height and SkekUng stormed forward, balling his hand into a fist and swinging a powerful arm. His bellow shook the air.

The wretch ducked, and sunk its teeth into his arm. The General roared and slammed him into the wall, swinging the youth like a doll. With a crack, they released him, flopping down to the floor. SkekNa cackled.

“What is going on here, slime-faces?” A snide voice drawled behind the crowd, quickly cut off by a ‘gah!’ of disgust and surprise. The youth was up on its feet again, snarling loudly at the newcomer. It swayed on the spot, hissing.

SkekSil’s eyes narrowed.

He snatched the scientist’s cane from him after a brief struggle, ignoring his threat-filled protest, and tossed the stick with all his might at the far wall. The resulting clang made the wretched little creature turn and lunge at it – even though it was only a stick.

It found not another foe, but thin air, and ended up crashing head-first into the wall. SkekSil’s lip curled. “Mm **mm** Mm!” Blind as a bat!

SkekUng’s hand snatched at the raggedy fabric adorning the youth’s body and yanked them back, up, and into the air. “Too much trouble for your own good!” His other hand went for the neck, clearly aiming to snap, consequences be damned, but the youth twisted, second pair of arms jabbering at the General’s face. It was enough to slip away and scramble down the hall at a baffling speed.

“GET BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE WRETCH!” SkekUng hollered.

His holler, needless to say, was no headed. But it was heard. SkekZok, standing in the Ritual Chambers over a steaming pot of ashes and coal, lifted his beak and glancing around, scowling. Piercing eyes slid to the entrance way, but found nothing, had still poised mid-douse and clutching a handful of dust meant to send the concoction into a smoky haze. Part of the ceremony, actually. He was about to continue when something came speeding into the chamber and ran directly into his side; tipping the seething pot and sending crackling embers scattering to the floor –

 _“Huh?!_  What - ”

A screech, and something was knocking him over. The Ritual Master hit the floor. The pain was quick, but the shock made it numb. His eyes opened and he saw the creature lifting a fist, ready to pummel it down upon his very head – and he acted quickly. One hand lashed out and seized the pot by the handle, remaining embers shimmering against the metal, and he cracked it against the youth’s head in a merciless swipe.

The scream it emitted was ear-piercing. It drew away, doubling over, arms curling against its back and chest. Eyes screwed shut, it continued to cry out, the pain raw. Vicious, animal like and vile as it was, it hadn’t known life long enough to be prepared.

The burns stung so badly it made everything else in the mind evaporate. The young skeksis swayed, for a moment, and fled into the hall again. SkekZok drew himself to his feet, slowly, back beginning to ache from the collision.

Moments later, SkekSil appeared, poking his beak around the corner. “Why, Ritual Master, whatever happened?”

“Hold your tongue, chamberlain, and see a message to the Emperor.” SkekZok snapped. He turned to glare in the direction the wretch had gone, “He must be informed of the second youth’s appearance.”

“Mmmm, If that is my duty...” SkekSil slunk back into the hall, chortling. SkekZok forced down a grumble, glaring down at his hand – that had also been singed when he’d grabbed the simmering bowl. Blast.

He could hear SkekEkt shrieking loudly down the same hall – probably fluttering to the Emperor himself. This wasn’t going to end well at all.

Elsewhere, the wretch crashed into something yet and rocky. It smelled dank here, like death. But they didn’t care about that, they cared about the pain wracking their body. It hurt, it hurt, and they  _couldn’t attack it._

The youth pressed themselves against the wall, the burn fading to a dull ache as time passed by. Then, a breeze, soft and silky, drifted by their face. Their hands, trembling with unwanted, angry nerves, ran across the floor, brow furrowing.

Their fingers touched something soft. Grasping it, they felt the texture, knew it well. A feather...but leaner than theirs. Their fist clenched, crushing the smaller piece of plumage. Other one.

Towards the breeze they went, where unknown to them, the exit of the castle sewer lay. Something made a noise, something small and whistling – they heard a flapping noise, another buzz, and they lunged, hands coming down to crush the creature that the loud ones called a ‘bat’.

Then they staggered on, following the fresher trail of air floating through this dank place.


	5. A Dying Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One is found, one isn't.

Noises.

Noises. So many. First, was the burning, then the cold. It didn’t come smoothly, it didn’t come quietly, it came like a strip, a tear, being ripped out of comfort, ripped out of someplace warm and peaceful into somewhere cold, raw, so icy it stung the feet. Tough and sound, no sight, no  _sight._ Knees hurt, hands hurt. Knees, hands, arms, they knew them all.  _Knew_  them.

They breathed.

Then, voices. Snarling, hisses, noises with words. They stood up, feeling their body rise, the cold floor further away. To the left, surprised howls, yips of fright. Had to leave. Avoid. Get – get –

Step. Walk. Run. They were running. They felt the light change; the heat vanishing from their skin as they entered somewhere else, someplace where their footsteps rang off the walls like chimes.

They’d ran until they’d hit something, and could go no further. Corner. Their mind dragged uneven phrases and letters together, rummaging through the torn mess to put together the deduction. Corner.

Their arms – one, two, three four, crossed over their chest, gripped their head, their face – beak – and they tried to breathe. Blood boiling, hunger inside, wanted – needed to rip, tear, to get the burning in their limbs  _away._

It burnt them, living burnt.

Their heartbeat strummed amongst the chaos in their head and body, and they huddled in that corner, breathing in and out, until all settled; a simmering pot of thoughts. Words danced experimentally around in their head.

They ran their hand along their arm.

This was an arm.

The floor – stone –  _beneath_  them.

Others. Others gone, now. Their noises, same as theirs, but different. Harsher. Their throat hummed with a growl, like a bird.  _Birds._ The image of that thing in their head was...incomplete. Not an image, really, just an idea.

Something small, fast, something they wanted to  _squash_.

They slammed their hand down on the rock, a reverberating crack singing around them. But not so far. The ring only sang in the direction where there was no wall, no rock. They listened.

They curled their hand into a fist and struck the wall. No. The sound didn’t stop at the wall. It bounced off again.

With a hiss, they dragged themselves up. They inhaled through small, beaky nostrils, smelling the damp, the stale air, the...candles.

They started stumbling forward, clicking their tongue on the topside of their beak, hunched, hands curled out as if to grab at the air.

...

Living was simple, actually. Things that you chew had a strong, obvious scent. Carried by little soft things that shuffled around. Almost as quiet as they did. They didn’t fight. It was fun to push them over and listen to them get back up every time, and then shove them again.

Food smelled strong, and the others were noisy. So it wasn’t hard.

Hide when the others came; their shuffling was loud, and could be heard long before they ever got to their location. They’d been able to poke the little squishy being’s faces, so they knew they weren’t like them.

He couldn’t touch the others, the raspy things. Something nibbling their gut and brain said it was best to stay away.

Sometimes they ‘spoke’. They knew that word, didn’t know how, but they knew it. They understood a little of what the raspy ones –  _old_ , said a woe begotten, shredded part of their memory – said. Mostly they didn’t care.

They liked walls. The liked halls. They could find the edges, map the route. Open spaces, they stayed clear. Too far away from a wall meant stumbling and getting  _lost._

After a while, they learned to climb. All the way up until the wall stopped being a wall and started being a ceiling, and they’d stay there, clutching the terribly complicated carvings and adorning in the stone; crevices and cracks, so many of them, it was easy to grip. Four arms helped.

They liked climbing. And the noises the little pudgy beings made when they pushed them over.

They were clutching the ceiling now, pressed into a curving arch embedded within that stretched down to align with the wall. They’d run their hands along the stone to check. There was a shuffling noise; three of the raspy ones were ambling below. They could hear their breath.

Their own breath made no such nose. It sniffed, silently.

“MmmMmm...”

Annoying mewling one. They wanted to kick it.

“I do not see  _why_ the Emperor has to take out his temper on us!” This one sounded...higher-pitched than the others. Squeaky, like that mouse they’d caught earlier. “It isn’t out fault the garthim didn’t find the waif!”

“Meagre little creature.” A bloated voice, as if talking was hard, haughty, deeper, something hollow inside making a noise, like a pot – “So small, skinny. Scrawny.”

“And that hair!” Squeaky-one shrieked, scandalised. “Messier than SkekUng’s!”

...Sk...?

“Hmm-hmm.” Mewling one chimed, “Even that whelp has better hair than him, even after being born mere weeks ago.”

_Born._

“Hmph! A comb isn’t too hard to acquire.”

They cocked their head to one side, running their tongue along their beak. ‘Other’ other one. Birth. Why did that resonate in their head so? They didn’t like it. It made being quiet all the harder, forcing down a growl and a hiss. Their nails dug into the rock.

Four shuffling creatures, the fourth was keeping quiet. They didn’t like  _quiet things._

“Hmph. He may have been useful.” A raggedy voice, shrill, but crackly like glass about to break. A tapping noise, the sing of metal against stone. Had they any ounce of sight, they’d see the gleam of a hook.

They smelled metal, faintly.

“Useful, Indeed.” Mewling one drawled. “But the Emperor’s word is his word.”

“Hmph.”

“Best not to argue.” Squeaky one said. They were moving away. Further. Further. Gone. They dropped down to the floor in a crouch, tail flopping behind them. With a growl bubbling softly in their throat, they scurried the opposite way.

Through the halls. Tunnels. Dark, close.

They stopped when they heard it. Soft whimpering, not the mewling one, not any of them. Too faint to be near; it was echoing through from one of the other halls. Soft, silly. They wanted to  _hurt it._ It didn’t sound like any of the others. They sneered.

But then, the little shards came cluttering together in their mind. Small one, they’d said, scrawny one. Soft whimpering. It matched. For once, something made sense.

They drew closer. Following the sound. It became less muffled, clearer, they could sense a dead end coming up; damp smell where water collected, the echoes ending far curter than before...

They heard it, sharp and clear. They couldn’t see them, so it must have been...dark.

Closer.

Closer.

A quivering breath. Just around this corner –

Something was humming. An absent, empty tune. And then the blind skeksis felt something, something uneasy, their heartbeat felt strong and that directionless noise sounded – familiar. It got right into their head and made their insides curl.

They recoiled and scuttled back, away, away from the small one and – whoever it was with.

They had good ears. The last it heard of them was something that sounded like –

_“You...?”_


	6. Chamber of Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skekTek's thoughts.

Fascinating little creatures.

‘Little’ was a bit of a stretch. Compared to podlings, animals, and Gelfings, the two cowering in the cage would be considered fairly tall. But clad in modest clothing, simple robes as soft and thin as skin, and cowering together against the wall, they indeed appeared small. Only one was of true interest; the other was unnecessary baggage, as were all UrRu. Or ‘Mystics’ as the native population addressed them. SkekSil snorted to himself, hobbling across the chamber. What folly. There was nothing Mystic about them, aside from a few cheap tricks and the pretty pictures they drew in the sand.

What was in the cage, you ask?

It happened fairly quickly. Like a bad memory or some sort of cosmic joke, two UrSkeks had appeared in the Crystal Chamber, cascading to Thra just as their former ‘selves’ had uncountable years ago. They were in for a nasty shock, though, he mused with more than a bit of gleeful spite. SkekTek still had no idea what happened, but they had split apart.

Two had escaped, two hadn’t. Here they were, cowering in the cage. The UrRu was calmer; of course it was, staring around with blind, slow eyes. Even in youth, he was dull and his movements were lethargic and smooth. But he was tense, brow furrowing in unease, head ducked like a kicked hound. The Skeksis inside the little ball-like cage was in far worse shape, curled against his counterpart’s chest and clutching on for dear life, he reminded SkekTek of a newborn rodent clinging to its parent. With wild pale grey eyes he stared back at him with growing terror. SkekTek smiled a vile smirk in response.

He hated looking at this creature, but it was hard not to. Still a boy, by all accounts, adulthood was near but not quite there. Green-blue feathers as soft as silk and thin but pudgy hands. It looked so easy for him to breathe, and to exist, and he had no idea of his advantage.

Little wretch.

He drew closer. The UrRu didn’t see him, but heard him; thick head swerving to face him. The Skeksis inside the cage made a curt, sharp noise of fright, like a strangled gasp.

He opened the cage with a clatter. With his good arm, the scientist reached in. His gnarly hand gripped the boy’s arm, harsh and digging, and began pulling him away. The waif realised what he was doing, and the UrRu’s brow lifted in worry as, sightless, he felt the warm body in his arms being tugged away, and he tried to hold on.

But, even with a barely working arm, a cane and all, SkekTek was strong. They weren’t the first unwilling creatures he’d managed to handle.

He yanked the youth from the UrRu’s arms, slamming the gate shut before he could snatch him back. The young Skeksis, dwarfed by his counterpart by far, could barely keep himself upright.

“P-please! Please!”

His voice, sharp and warbling, cut through. So he could speak. SkekTek made that note as he half-carried, half-dragged him away. “Silence, waif.”

He tried to hold onto the table as they passed, though his legs barely worked. “Please!” He screeched, again.

“Silence!”

The UrRu – as SkekTek could see as he glanced back, was reaching out through the bars, pawing around, worry sinking onto his face as he fruitlessly searched for his companion.

They couldn’t bear to be separated. SkekTek sneered. He and his fellows hadn’t held their counterparts in such a regard, they’d been glad to be rid of them, but these two could barely function. Perhaps something had gone wrong...?

Interesting.

A pair – two pairs – of hands suddenly dug into his shoulder. SkekTek’s organic eyes bulged, “What are you –“

The young man was trying to regain his legs, clawing at him in a kind of groggy violence, scowling – in a way that showcased just how unused to scowling he was. He fought, by instinct, to escape, but he was too weak, too unstable.

But he wouldn’t be for long. They had to figure out what was to be done with him before he gained his bearings.

A sudden jerk caught him off guard and the boy hit the ground, scrabbling on all fours – or six – to get away. He practically threw himself across the chamber, hitting against other cells and cages, causing a racket as he went. He looked over his shoulder to find SkekTek hadn’t moved and was simply watching him flail about.

The waif fell again, panting. For a moment, all he did was stare.

The scientist cocked his head, giving a raspy bark of laughter. It was brief. “You do not have your legs yet, young one. Your bearings are  _off balanced_.”

Pale eyes, unused to even this dim lighting, peered around the lab. The waif was near the shaft wall, too near. The levers were dangerously close to him. SkekTek drew nearer, slowly.

The boy hissed, loud and sharp. The sudden aggression made the elder stop, his single eye widening. Not from fear, mind you. It was hard to be afraid of one who could barely stand. As if to contradict that thought, the boy seized the wall and began dragging himself up, chest heaving and eyes focusing.

“Who...what...”

“I am the scientist. I am a Skeksis.” SkekTek drawled, rather derisively.

“...What am...I?”

SkekTek tilted his head, slowly. Clueless. Truly clueless. He had to know. Though then again, perhaps it was plausible that he didn’t.

“You are a Skeksis, boy.” ‘We are the same’ was too far a stretch. With his good arm he gestured to the reflective surface lying a few yards away. The youth cast him a wary glance before stumbling over. Slowly, SkekTek followed him.

He caught the sight of his reflection and barrelled back with a gasp. He stared at himself, chest still quickened. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and touched the glass; his fingertip prodding against his reflection’s. His brow lifted. “...”

Then his hands, all four, went to his chest, his shoulder, as if to make sure it was really, utterly him. Then, with that same vacantly gobsmacked expression, he turned his head to SkekTek. The scientist raised a hand, as if to say ‘See?’

“...What is You...?”

_“You...?”_

The UrRu was calling, softly and pathetic. The boy’s head turned and he made a move to follow it, but SkekTek stood in his way. “What do you mean ’who is  _you_?’”

The youth was trying to look past him, back at the UrRu. Ah. The other one. The way they addressed each other must have been ‘You’ and only this. The idea that someone wouldn’t understand names, or pronouns, boggled him. Me and You. That was it.

“Him? He is an UrRu.”

“And I am a Skeksis.”

“Yes.”

Simple-minded, for the time being. How long had he lived before he’d been split apart? SkekTek reached to grip his arm again. “Now come along, boy. Only the Emperor can decide your fate.”

Uncertainly flew across the youth’s face as he tried to lead him away. For a moment, it seemed he was going to co-operate, confused and forlorn. Then that blasted UrRu began calling again, soft and pathetic, for ‘You’.

The young skeksis stopped, as if he’d been slapped awake.

“N...No!” He jolted himself away, igniting a furious growl from the scientist, and dove towards the cage. SkekTek saw his mistake all too quickly – he’d left it unlocked, what with the last creature in the cell being blind, he couldn’t get out.

The youth seized the bars and pulled the gate open. When he saw SkekTek drawing near he snatched a large glass potion bottle off the counter and raised it overhead. SkekTek saw the threat and halted.

Hissing, he drew back. How dare this waif threaten him?

The UrRu felt his way out, padding his many hands against the ground before finding his counterpart’s shoulder at long last.

It was like time had sped up. In a clumsy motion the youth seized his companion and pulled him back, leaping away towards the entrance to the chamber. SkekTek was not about to grab his cane and chase after them, not now.

Instead, he turned his head and bellowed for the Garthim.

...

“I like it when the spice really goes into the meat –“

“I like those grey ones that go mushy when you put them on the end of your fork –“

It was a hurricane. Or rather, two people burst between two much heavier people and sent those two people spiralling into either wall. SkekEkt had been having a fairly nice morning. They’d been discussing food, which meant SkeAyuk was enjoying the compliments. But then two horribly dressed creatures were barrelling between them and dashing down the hall.

“AAAAAH –“

“AEEEE-“

The familiar clutter and snapping of the Garthim came next, and the two scurried out of its way. SkekAyuk and SkekEkt exchanged bemused and affronted looks, before turning their long heads to eyeball the duo that had disrupted them.

SkekEkt could scarcely believe what he was seeing. “The young thing!”

The gourmand stared back at him, at a loss for words.

“MmmMmmm...”

Both parties jolted in fright, their nerves still fresh from the previous jolt, as a familiar whine slid into their midst. The Chamberlain, looking far more relaxed, had appeared. “What is happening to make you so easily startled?”

SkekAyuk gestured wordlessly down the hall. Chamberlain’s smug look melted like cream over a furnace when he saw it.

The two outsiders. The UrRu, and the young Skeksis. Making quite a show of themselves. Trying to keep yourself upright while balancing another, or using each other for aid when neither could really stand properly, resulted in a rather stubbly, mad kind of gait. The two had been cut off by a pair of Garthim and were bolting for the other hall, tripping and staggering all the way.

The UrRu, far taller, was clearly blind, and that just made it worse.

SkekSil started cackling, and the other two joined him as they shuffled over to watch.

“What good is youth  _now,_ Youngling?” SkekSil called, rather derisively, as SkekEkt chortled by his side.

“Such terrible coordination!”

“I almost feel embarrassed just watching.” SkekAyuk blubbered.

The youth was looking their way, realisation slowly dawning on him where he knelt. The Garthim were a tad confused, not knowing whether to attack him or not, due to him resembling their masters. The UrRu had pulled himself upright again via clawing at the wall.

The youth scowled when he saw the three chuckling elders a few yards away. He got to his feet, surprisingly fast – the wobbled. His arms flailed. For a moment it appeared he’d found a balance, al four arms outstretched like a weather-vane – and then his legs slid and he flopped back down. It was like he was standing on ice.

The trio roared with laughter, barely keeping upright themselves.

At that same moment, SkekTek appeared around the corner, glass eye catching the lightning crawling about the sky outside. The youth leaped back like he’d been struck, grimacing widely. “Yipe!”

He turned and bolted, faltering, but this time his hands hit the floor and pushed his torso back up, catching himself. His friend moved slower, one foot, then the other, and the two broke into a run.

The skeksis youth’s next few steps were still a tad uneven. Then His posture straightened. His arms began moving with his body, swing, swing – the way the soles of his feet hit the ground became powerful. He was running.

He stared down at his legs, wonder-struck, hands curling into fists. He quickened his pace and practically flew down the hall, air whistling in his ears. Behind him, though blind, his friend was following – listening to the sound of his steps, hands unfurled but moving ahead of him, back slightly arched but his legs pumping with just as much strength. Their tails flew out behind them.

The youth laughed, his companion chortled.

Feeling a bit ambition, he grabbed his companion’s wrist and did a sharp turn, feet skidding along the floor, and leaped into the next corridor. The UrRu’s hair bounced against his face, brow lifting in wonder.

SkekSil, SkekEkt, SkekAyuk, and the scientist who joined them a moment later, watched them go with silent stares.


	7. Kneel, Leap, Bow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise.

“MmmMmmm...”

“Quiet.”

“Hmm-hmm...”

“I. Said. QUIET.”

The hall was dark. The hall’s air was stuffy. Outside, thunder rumbled, like the world itself was strumming in apprehension. Every now and then, the shadowy corridor would be bathed in a second-hand light as the lightning chortled outside the castle’s walls. Dark and eerily spacious as it was, this corridor wasn’t empty. Bulky figures, four to be exact, where hobbling down its floor. Taking up the lead was a shifty-eyed skeksis with a red cloth adorning his head, gritting his teeth as he moved. The conversation behind him hadn’t ceased, all the way through the past four hallways just like this one. The second, a round-beaked one and by far the chubbiest, was staring up at the ceiling. His favourite companion wasn’t there, and there was no way he was going to discuss fine dining with the pair  _behind them._

They did enough ‘chattering’ for the whole castle, let alone a hallway.

“It is only fair that I was given the duty of overseeing the preparations.” Chamberlain crooned, happily, ducking his head in a deceivingly humble manner, “You are more suited to – brawn-needing tasks, General.”

“Bah.” SkekUng turned his beak away, for if he kept looking at his rival there would surely be a fight, and by law he  _wasn’t_ allowed to snap his lower jaw off. “It wasn’t of importance, anyway. That is the only reason you were chosen over me.”

SkekShod and SkekAyuk, in no way friends, shared a dead-pan, head-ache induced look of annoyance in front of them.

“Hmm.” Chamberlain’s smile was finally nipped away, and eye decided to pick up the pace so he no longer waddled beside the General. Scowling, the Garthim Master also quickened his stride a tad, so there was no winning for either of them. SkekAyuk and SkekShod grimaced, for now they were even closer to their bickering.

SkekShod finally decided to change the subject, though he hated discussing anything he didn’t actually want to discuss. “The Emperor is finally going to decide what to do about – them.” His husky voice began. SkekAyuk picked up what he was doing and nodded vigorously.

“Very interesting, all of this.” SkekSil drawled, a hand sliding along his lower beak in thought. SkekUng snarled, loudly, making the other three wince,

“We should just ring their scrawny little necks and be done with it.”

“The Garthim Master,” SkekSil mewled, with malicious glee, “Frightened of _children_!”

SkeShod hid his snicker with a cough.

The Garthim master swiped an arm over all three shorter Skeksis – and they promptly ducked, halting the walk entirely. He threw out a crooked snarl, “Children?! They were almost full grown! And their full selves – they came for the Crystal!”

“That was just a suggestion from SkekTek.” SkekShod ventured, but he didn’t quite disagree. SkekSil, however was frowning just for the sake of disagreeing. The gourmand had nothing to say on the matter, really, he just didn’t one the General to take another swipe at him.

“Hmph!” The Chamberlain offered, indignantly, “We shall see, General. We shall see...” He turned, and resumed the walk. SkekShod and SkekAyuk were quick to follow. And, lest he be lest to glare at nothing and no one, so did the Garthim Master. You could have cut the tension between with a wooden spoon.

As they departed from the hall, back, back at the last opening, where even darker dwellings lay, a decidedly smaller, sharper figure poked their head out to peer around. Then, a leg, an arm, he stepped out, ducking, all four arms raised. Tip-toeing, slowly, he slid to the wall, murmuring for his companion to follow.

They zigzagged back and further between the walls, ducking down whenever the lightning outside lit the area. One would think sneaking around a place so decidedly empty didn’t require such effort, but the two would call you wrong. One of them would quite frankly tell you that you were insane.

The circular window, or a rather shabby, crude imitation of a circular window, was poised in the exact middle of the hall. The young skeksis saw it, his brow creasing in curiosity. He tugged gently on his UrRu companion’s shoulder. The latter raised his head, inhaling deeply through his nose, catching the fresh air drifting from outside.

A thought came to him, and the two scurried over. Muttering quickly, the UrRu stooped down and his smaller companion hopped onto his back, soft hands seizing the edge of the window and pulling himself up. He hooked his beak over the side, trying to see –

Fresh air hit his eyes.

He wasn’t ready.

Cool, endless, dark, the sky stretched on, he knew the word but something so big, so vast, no end, made his head spin, made his feathers bristle. He clutched the wall, lost for words, as his eyes slipped down –

High, very high, ground so far below –

He pulled his beak away, surprising a shudder. They’d  _never_ get out at this rate –

**_“Yargh!”_ **

The youth turned his head, terror sweeping through his veins, but too late. Looming behind him, his figure illuminate by a clash of lightning, was the General, a thick arm raised and fists clenched. With a loud crack he knocked him off his companion’s shoulders, sending him sprawling across the stony floor. Elbows, knees, arms, scraping against the rock, he scrambled up on all floors and raised his head, eyes broad in fright.

The UrRu’s head shot up with unusual speed, turning frantically, trying to locate him by sound but failing. He drew himself up, slowly, arms tucked by his sides as he listened –

SkekUng gave a shrill hiss and bucked him aside with a backhand. The UrRu was tossed to the left, flopping stomach-down without as much as a yelp.

A ripple drummed through the young skeksis’s body, his breath breaking in his lungs.  _“No!”_

He reached, sweeping fluidly to his feet, the dark shrouding his companion, the sight of him blocked as the Garthim master rounded on the smaller creature.

Slowly, the youth stepped back. Again. The Garthim Master leered forward; teeth bore in a vicious sneer. The younger raised his arms in front of him, rapidly moving back as the elder advanced like a cat cornering a mouse.

The youth tripped, landing back against the wall with a thud. He pressed himself back, elbows flattening out along the stone, breath merely gasps.

The UrRu pushed himself, slowly, onto his hands, then his knees. He heard the fall, the crash of a smaller body against the floor, he heard it, and he drew to his feet, “...”

With a intelligible growl, the Garthim Master reached for the cowering youth – and then heavy footsteps, fast and quick but steady, came stamping up towards him –

The UrRu flung himself onto his back, leaping clean into the air, arms landing around his shoulders in a tight lock, the other pair grasping his scalp in a painful hold. The young skeksis’s eyes nearly popped. He watched, dumb-struck, as the elder drew back, arms in the air, bellowing furiously to buck him off – and just like that, lightning sprang through his bones and he leaped at the Garthim Master, latching onto his shoulders, snapping at his arm with a sharp beak.

Then, a happy little hum.

His stomach drooped in horror. Oh no –

The smaller skeksis turned his head and spotted the Chamberlain, the Gourmand, the Treasurer – watching from nearby, the latter two staring with just as much a gobsmacked expression as he was. This tiny spell of distraction was enough for SkeUng’s to raised his arm and seize the boy about the neck, hoisting him off his other arm and up into the air in one fatal sweep –

His shriek came out as a strangled breath.

The whites of SkekUng’s eye were riddled with vein-like red -

“I have you  _now_ , you wailing little –“

The youth dug his hands into his eyes in a mad state of panic. SkekUgn roared, so loud it shook the hall, and dropped him. The UrRu released his hold around his neck and landed with a soft thud, and the two tried to dart back into the darkness –

SkekShod stepped in front of them, snarling sharply. The two jumped back, the skeksis youth turned first, but SkekSil and SkekAyuk blocked the way, arms slightly extended, but they needn’t. Simply standing there did enough; the two didn’t want to get anywhere near –

Behind him, the skeksis youth heard the loud one’s slowly ascending growl. He swallowed, body stiffening, and turned his head. Over his shoulder he saw the garthim master leering, a hair’s width away from wringing his neck.

His legs buckled. The UrRu clung to him, and he clung back. They were trapped.

One of them drew near, bending down to eye-level, so the youth had no choice but to look upon the smirking Chamberlain. “Hellllooo.” He said, in a sing-song voice.

He jerked away, tripping a little over his own tail.  _“BACK!”_

All four, even the General, gave a start as his voice split the air.

“It  _talks_.” The one with the red thing around the back of his head said, rather aghast. SkekAyuk had kept his distance,

“I saw it biting! Keep it away.”

They spoke like the UrRu wasn’t even there.

“Mmm, Do not be  _afraid_...” SkekSil said, raising a hand out towards him – to which the younger drew away even more, eyes wide and teeth grinding in unease. One of the UrRu’s arms swung around his middle, practically lifting him away. They were back against the wall, now, the two, but still standing. SkekUng appeared irritated by this display.

“ _I_  found them.  _I_ will deliver them to the Emperor!”

SkekSil arched a brow, smiling mockingly, “Really?”

_“YES!”_

The roar was enough to make the youth’s rings ear. Quietly, slowly, with the faintest frown on his face, the UrRu pressed his hands over his ears. “...”

SkekUng reached for the youngest skeksis again, curt and annoyed, “Come here!”

The flight or fight response is a fickle, unreliable thing. When you cannot fly –

Instinct blurred over terror, the youth lashed out, hands digging, beak snapping, lashing a blow right on the General’s arm and tearing the fabric of his sleeve. He grabbed his companion and moed to duck between the elders as he had done before, but a hand landed on his shoulder and pulled him around.

“Not so fast,  _waif_ –“ Husky, stale fabric, the Treasurer had caught hold –

“No!” His voice escaped him, again, louder, he kicked away, “I’m not – I’m –“

Not waif.

Not –

_Sept –_

_\- Onze –_

He gripped his head.

“...You...”

_You._

Again, his shoulders were seized. But this time, he couldn’t find his legs, he was being pulled back, dragged away. The UrRu’s brow flew up as he felt him being snatched away and he reached, all four arms, maw opening –

He was wrenched up again, SkekUng had grabbed the front of his robe and tore him away from the Chamberlain’s grasp, downright yanking him down the hall a good three steps. The youth’s feet hit the ground as he was dragged along like a sack behind him, but he was unable to keep upright. His ankles skidded painfully along the floor. “Argh!”

SkekShod and SkekAyuk closed in, following, eyeing him like some strange animal - freshly caught, SkekSil watching him being pulled way with an inquisitive tilt of the head. His companion, left on his alone, scampered forward, listening to their crinkling clothes – and the Champlain wordlessly knocked him over.

“Hmhm.”

_“Get off!”_

The UrRu hit the floor. Cold, stone, palm against it, feel, sound coming from up ahead, a little to the left, smell musk and coolness – try to pinpoint –

_“Stop! Let go –“_

_“Quiet, runt!”_

Alone.

Gone.

He lifted his head. The sounds were dying, getting too far away. His companion’s cries getting fainter. He stood, feeling the rock below his feet, one, two, step, all arms extending out to feel the wall. Follow the noise. The stone would lead his way.

His breath shook, just a little, falling from his mouth as he moseyed along. Follow.

Had to follow. Needed to find him.


	8. Like The Worms We Are

Steam and smoke were rising from the thin bowl engraved beside the staircase; a murky concoction that barely fought the tension already staining the air. There was the throne, flanked on either side by large, crab-like pincer ornaments and framed by cloth of red, purple and black. A constant murmur ripped through the din.

They had come to the throne room for a discussion. They congregated here to mull over their options, their theories, and if they were lucky, argue their own case. They didn’t come here for this. SkekUng the Garthim Master was storming into the throne room, gaze dead set ahead. The Emperor reclined in his throne; SkekEkt shrank back in horror, The others doing the same, faces drawn in an odd mixture of fury, unease, and interest. Behind the Garthim Master were SkekSil, smiling placidly, and SkekShod and SkekAyuk, the latter of which came to stand by the ornamentalist almost instantly.

The Ritual Master and the Emperor exchanged a look, their shock slowly melting into a pair of scowls. For the General was dragging something in with him, something colourful, struggling and barely standing. It finally wrenched free of the Garthim Master’s grip, hurting itself back – only to land right in the calm, collected arms of the Chamberalin. He smirked, pointedly, his grip of the younger’s shoulders unflinching. The General didn’t seem to care – he’d only needed to be seen dragging him in. The Chamberlain could deal with him now.

“Sire,” SkekUng growled, with the closest thing the brute could come to respect in his voice, “I have caught the waif, just as you desired...”

He cast a dark, vicious look over his shoulder as the struggling youth in SkekSil’s arms, moving slowly to the Emperor’s side. Now that the alarm had worn off, the others were closing in slowly but surely, like they were examining some strange exotic goldfish. SkekTek in particular, drew near, and horror dawned slowly on the boy’s face as he saw them approach.

SkekSo sat forward in his throne, eyes latched on him, piercing gaze enough to wilt even the strongest of wills. The youth did not see him, instead he glanced between each of their stares, his struggling turning to a limp quiver. Quietly, SkekSil lifted a hand to pet his head – something the Ritual Master caught with a scowl.

Slimy trickster. He leaned to the Emperor, who was clearly deep – or swarming – in thought. “Sire...what is to be done with this...boy?”

SkekSo’s eyes narrowed in on him, and he didn’t answer, not yet.

SkekTek cackled, “Remember me? Wishing you hadn’t crossed us, now, aren’t you?” He let out a louder, raspier laugh as the younger’s eyes flashed in a rare, shaky sort of anger, and he jerked his head away.

SkekEkt extended a hand, fingertips just brushing the top of the boy’s thick, messy black hair, curiously. He jumped, looking to him in confusion, and the material weaver slid back, as if he was afraid he’d bite. “...!”

SkekOk was peering at him, too, adjusting his specs. The boy’s brow lifted a little at seeing another skeksis of such a small stature, for indeed, the spectacle-wearing one seemed the least threatening. Least.

“Enough!”

The Emperor’s voice cut through, and the flock of curious but apprehensive elders drew back, heads veering. SkekSo had his sceptre in the air, his eyes narrowed to splits. “Let the waif come to me.”

“Mmmm. Be good...” SkekSil murmured, none too quietly, and released the boy. He seemed befuddled, but he was surrounded, and there was no shock or chaos about to allow him a free pass to escape. He stood where he was, looking fairly out of place, as the Chamberlain moved back.

Two hands fiddling and the other two clenched, he began moving forward towards the Emperor. He cringed, slightly, as he came to stand in front of him, just barely at eye-level –

Clank. The Emperor’s sceptre landed on his shoulder, and without breaking eye contact SkekSo pivoted it under the boy’s beak, forcing his head up rather painfully. The youth jerked, eyes wide enough to fall out of their sockets, white teeth barred.

“You. What do you call yourself?” SkekSo asked, very, very slowly. There was more to this question. The silence was suffocating. The others watched, stiff, a deadly audience. The youth swallowed.

“...S-Sept.”

A murmur broke out, but died after a brief wave. SkekSo didn’t seem pleased. Not at all. “What do you know?”

The quiet that came next was lethal. “...N...nothing.”

“Do you remember why you’re here?”

Did he remember?

Pieces, fragments, the beginning of a stem, a spreading root that ends, cut off – not, not cut, torn, the pieces like a ripped fabric, the writing along the silk trailing off so the memory lay in shambles, too damaged to read...

But for some reason, when he was asked...he felt something prickle in his blood. His brow furrowed. For some reason, he didn’t like being asked.

“...N-no...”

SkekSo’s eyes narrowed.

“...Garthim.”

The youth didn’t know the word itself, but he knew what it meant. At once, on either side of him, two big black shapes that had been standing as still as statues up till now stirred. Click-click-click –

He drew back, slowly, hands curled against his chest, horror slowly dawning on him as jeers and jitters erupted around him from; in a blur he saw that some of the skeksis were cheering, favourable, quipping and sneering, others looked a little bemused, taken aback, the one with the glasses appeared shocked, the Ritual Master was raising a reproachful brow, the Garthim Master was laughing raucously –

The Garthim closed in, clipping their pincers. The scientist had swept to the Emperor’s side, muttering quickly, the youth didn’t hear and obviously the leader didn’t care –

“Ha! What about your fast feet now, Boy?”

“Get him!”

“Sire, I implore you –“

He drew back, one of the big black beings made a swipe for him and he felt his arm burn. He shrieked; the sound bouncing off the walls, cutting off every utter the elders made, something red and strange was pouring out of his skin. What was it?!

Stamp, stamp, stamp –

The UrRu burst into the throne room, leaping through the throng of startled skeksis and landing directly beside him, sweeping the smaller creature behind his back and raising all four limbs; two arms to one Garthim, two to the other, standing up to his full height. The Emperor recoiled once more; the skeksis lifted their hands in alarm –

“Ooooommmmmm....”

It was like some lulling spell had come over the Garthim. They swayed, pincers falling, clicking unevenly. SkekUng snapped out of his shock and snarled, raising a fist,

“GARTHIM!”

The young UrRu’s chant wasn’t enough. The Garthim jerked out of their haze and reached for them both, the skeksis youth straightened up and threw his arms around his companion’s torso, trying to pull him back.

“Royal sire.” Chamberalin hummed, quietly, slipping to the Emperor’s other side, “Perhaps, we should let the waif...fight for his right to live. It would be entertaining, no? And we’d see if he...were of use.”

The Emperor glanced at him, briefly, then back at the two. SkekTek looked affronted, that his words had been ignored while the Chamberlain’s considered, if for a second.

“Wait!”

The hiss made the Garthim stop in their jittering tracks. All heads turned, confusion blossoming on every beak in the throne room. SkekSo settled back into his throne, scowling darkly, “He will will be allowed to fight for his life – for now. Give the shivering charlatan a sword.”

The youth, turned his head, glancing between his onlookers with bewilderment. They’d broken out into a murmur. Then, the one clad in the claw and eye-patch turned, barking out a sharp command to some of the little mushy faces. His UrRu companion stooped back down, one hand leant out to balance him, brow furrowed.

Several slaves dragged in a pair of swords; a bunch from one side of the chamber, a gaggle from the other, silent, morbid, and milky-eyed. They lifted the weapon up to the youth, who simply stared at them for a moment.

Then, he gripped the handle. The cold metal made his arm quake.

“Mmm.” The Chamberlain crooned from nearby. “Good luck – SkekSept.”

SkekSept. It almost made it all too real. The name was repeated, murmured between the now nearly silent huddle of elders. SkekEkt and SkekAyuk were lifting their hands, speaking quietly behind them in harsh mutters.

“Who will challenge the boy?” The Ritual Master’s clear eye panned over them all, his voice sharp and cutting. The Garthim Master’s disgruntled face melted into a smug, vicious smirk.

“I will.”

SkekNa leaned over to SkekShod, hissing out of the corner of his beak,

“That runt is going to die.”

“He’s doomed.” SkekAyuk said to his ornamentalist friend.

Indeed, the waif’s arms and legs were quivering now, and an extra pair handy wouldn’t help him now. He swallowed, stepping back, the sword dragging across the stone as the General rounded on him, hoisting up the blade. The Garthim, given some unseen command, seized hold of the UrRu and dragged him out of the ring. SkekSept made to follow, darting after them – but the General’s sword swung out and blocked his way. He leaped back.

He heard the sword as well as saw it – swish, clang – he dodged, kicking the floor to throw himself out of the way. He was fast, far faster, his heart was hammering painfully against his ribs but there was a buzz in his bones he hadn’t felt before.

He ran at the General, swinging the blade over his head, only for it to be promptly block. But the fact he’d tried at all sent a sweep of exclamation through the crowd.

“Come on, General!”

“General –“

“He’s really mad now –“

“Looks like he can lift it after all –“

“Three gold coins, he makes it more than a minute.”

SkekUng sneered, broke the parry, and slashes at him again.

SkekSept hopped backwards, again, and the fight continued.


	9. Trial by Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trial By Stone...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter I wrote for SkekSept; and it shows!

_CLANG._

This was a bad idea. This was a very, very big miscalculation. Returning to this castle, the place of his ‘birth’, returning to the chamber where he came into being, or rather, his being was split apart...

_CLANG._

This place where his predecessors –  _their_  predecessors – had done the same –

_SWISH._

It was a mistake.

SkekSept hit the floor again, rolling upright into a crouched position, his second pair of arms lifting to balance him. His tacky robe, plain as grass, was ruddy and torn already and drenched in sweat. Around him the scene hadn’t changed: A dozen beings, maybe less yet somehow appearing far bigger in number; the Lords of the Crystal, clad in adornments and attire that made them appear far bulkier and bigger than they actually where. It was a funny trick, but in comparison, even in youth, he was nothing.

_SWIPE._

He scuttled away. The blade had missed him by a few centimetres that time, and his speed was faltering. An onlooker would be very confused by this scene; ten cackling Skeksis watching their fellow and General trying to slice the outsider up like meat on a cooking board; or maybe that wouldn’t be such a shock if the outsider was – one of them.

Them, but not them.

SkekSept tried to remember how he’d gotten here, clutching a sword he could barely lift while the General wielding his as if it were as light as a toothpick. His arms  _burned_ at the weight after a single swing and it was in that second, during the first parry, that the youth knew he’d mucked this up big time.

He raised his blade to block the blow; he hadn’t put enough space between himself and the General. The blow was heavy and sent a spasm all the way through his lean body. When they’d first seen him, they’d been horrified, and rather unnerved – the image of what they once were, when they’d first came into being. Nineteen was just a whisper to them, and to think, SkekSept had thought himself  _grown_  –

But then their uncertainty had turned to poison.

_Ack, ow –_

SkekUng paused, raising a crooked hand to wipe at his beak, old but stronger than ten creatures in one arm, and SkekSept backed up – but found he could go any further, for right behind him two jeering fellows reached to swipe at him.

SkekUng’s blade grew near and prodded him harshly in the chest. They were snarling and growling in a way that SkekSept hadn’t thought possible in a being. He glanced down at his torn chest, scowling as SkekUng uttered –

“You weak little whelp!”

Another snarl sent SkekSept slinking to the left, putting more space between him and the elder. He glanced around, the circle of onlookers growing closer to cut off his room. Through the murky dim he saw a flash of light against class, as one with a cane swiped at him from the side. He drew away, grimacing.

“He’s going easy on you,  _boy!_ ” A gritted jeer called from the right, a hook-wielding one bearing an eye patch.

Anger flushed through him and they saw it in the way his back-feathers bristled. SkekSept charged at SkekUng, who had been stalking him like a cat after a mouse, and took a swipe before the latter’s heavy blow could land. It missed, but tore his baggy sleeve. A hiss of anger travelled around the ring. Then, laughter, a crooning voice,

“How precious! The babe landed a blow.” He saw a red-clad fellow nudging another, crooning an odd cat-like sound. SkekSept moved back, terror turning to indignation. Why was every creature in this world so patronising -?!

SkekUng lunged, probably not even bothering with the sword. In one valid swipe he’d snatched him up by the front of his robe and tossed him overhead, slamming him down like a bag of flour.

“Can’t beat  _that_.” The scientist chortled to the ritual master.

_Pain._

The cheers rose up for an encore. SkekUng wasn’t done. Giving a furious roar and brought his sword down. Stomach-down the youth’s eyes bulged and he rolled, leaping up with a quickness he couldn’t match just before the blade struck the ground.

WHACK.

SkekSept moved for a hit, but his arms where aching badly and time wasn’t on his side. Heh. Time wasn’t on any Skeksis’ side...

He leaped up, and SkekUng’s eyes widened – but he parried, easily, their swords locking. The cheers rose higher. SkekSept’s arms shook as the Garthim Master leaned in, back arching, snarling like a beast. SkekSept’s legs trembled and buckled. The excited whoops increased.

He couldn’t hold it. Panic flashed across his face. SkekUng sneered, violently.

“Ah –“

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Chamberlain, that crooning smile on his face.

BAM.

His sword flew out of his fingers. SkekSept watched it fall to the floor a few yards away with a gape. The silence was solid for a few seconds. Then, SkekUng barked out a laugh and his arm swung out –

With a crack, SkekSept was knocked to the floor. He dragged himself up into a sitting position, shimmying away as the General advanced, victory in his sights. The youth’s chest fell and rose in a rapid rhythm.

He tossed himself back as the General took a swipe at him again, aiming to skewer him. And SkekSept hit someone behind him, knocking his back against their knees purely by accident.

“AEEE –“

The fancy one, with the feather one his head, scurried back, scandalised at being touched by such a scraggly creature. “Sorry!” He blurted.

“I should think!” The laboured voice of the chubby one blustered, as he tried to calm his horrified friend. SkekSept darted, taking the time everyone was distracted to do the honourable, Skeksis-like thing.

Turn tail and run.

It took a few moments for the eleven to realise what he was doing. SkekUng and his fellows looked genuinely confused for a moment, until SkekSil and SkekOk saw the youth speeding towards them –

He threw out his arms and pushed them both aside, stumbling in the meantime. They squawked in protest. SkekUng’s furious yell bellowed out behind him, threatening to shake the floor –

“DESERTER!”

A pair of arms encircled his shoulders. SkekSept’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?!”

“Going somewhere, brat?!”

“I’m full grown!”

He was tugged back. SkekSil and SkekOk, their hands gnarly, bony, but strong. He could break them off, not for all his prying. They smelled like must and oil and it made him gag.

_“MmmmMMmmm.”_

He was tossed back into the centre of the circle, landing face-down. The air flew from his lungs. They were all advancing on him now, like hungry animals. Panic swelled up in his chest and he leaped to his feet, drawing away the best he could.

“Keep away from me,  _spoiled freaks!”_

“Watch your  _tongue,_ Whelp.” A hard, sharp voice called from above him. He turned. Towering over him, adorned in all his finery, was the Ritual Master, “We are your betters and elders, and  _you_  just forsook a legitimate dual.”

“Fear not,” SkekSil sang, “We won’t harm you!”

They were going to kill him, weren’t they?

“It wasn’t a fair fight!” SkekSept insisted, drawing away from the Ritual Master, who simply cocked a brow at him in an infuriatingly patronising way. SkekSil smiled at him in feigned reassurance, but the spark in his eyes said it all.

SkekUng tried to hit him with a balled-up fist and a bark. SkekSil ducked down, so he vaguely resembled a monkey ready to leap, teeth barred in a cringe.

“By the law – you must pay.” SkekZok drawled, as the others closed in. They were directly around him now, and it was...

...Horrifying. SkekSept swallowed. “I’m not – I don’t abide by your laws.”

“Let  _me_ have him.” SkekTek insisted, a clawed hand reaching out for him. The mortified youth ducked away. “He doesn’t need those extra arms more than we do!”

“LET ME WRING HIS NECK.” SkekUng bellowed, so suddenly that the outsider wasn’t the only one who jumped.

That was all he needed. SkekSept dove between their skirts, inciting another terrified shriek from the ornamentalist, and booked it towards the throne. In a fluid movement he’d leaped onto the chair, inciting a furious yell from behind, and then he was climbing up the ornamental formation behind it, up towards the ceiling. He perched himself at the top, overlooking the jabbering lot below, legs dangling.

So much for holding one’s tongue. The Skeksis behind yelling and bellowing, furious, as they could do nothing and the Garthim wouldn’t be able to get up there. SkekSept had a moment to catch his breath, at least.

He raised his hands – all four – and lifted them above his beak, waggling them rudely. Below, SkekEkt screeched –

“Oh, how vile –“

“That waif has it coming to him –“

“Hmm-Mmm.”

“Stop LAUGHING,  _Chamberlain.”_

“Boy, I ORDER you to return to the floor!”

He could wait. His breath wasn’t too caught yet.


	10. The Wrong Way To Say Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After escaping the castle and encountering the podlings, our duo finds themselves making an unsuspected friend.

The change in mood was like a slap to the face. One moment the night was fine; the music was loud but bouncy, warmth and spice in the air. Golden light and soft ember hues, strings and food and merry laughter. Podlings dancing around their ankles and knees. SkekSept and UrSaat, huddled in a corner and surrounded by oddly happy and curious little beings. Every now and then one would run up and babble a question neither could answer. They’d been found, wandering the swamps, and tugged rather forceful to the village. As forcefully as tiny little bean beings could manage. In truth SkekSept didn’t want to pull away and squish them by accident.

They’d been happy to see them, as if their approval had meant...good news.

They’d given them food. Slightly better clothes. Though UrSaat couldn’t see them, he enjoyed running his hands along his poncho; red-brown fabric adored with spiralling patterns and circles. SkekSept hadn’t kept his, an identical garment, on. He liked the movement of his simple robe better.

UrSaat had been nodding along the with music, bewilderment overpowered by merriment. SkekSept had taken up one of the odd instruments and had been trying it out when –

A black claw had burst through the wall.

No more music, no more laughter, just screams and little podlings trying to usher them away. UrSaat’s brow flew up, confused. SkekSept seized his shoulder and led him away; they leaped over a bench, ducking away from a house. They were everything, big black things –

He knew what they were, clicking, cluttering, side to side – Garthim. He knew the world before he’d known his own. What could they do?

SLAM.

One struck him, knocking him out of the way, clicking loudly. SkekSept tumbled away, UrSaat ducking behind him. His arms flew out to steady him.

The Podlings were swarming away like mice caught in the light. It happened so quickly, they could do nothing. Their arrival hadn’t meant good news at all.

“How do we – how -?”

“...We cannot. Too many.” UrSaat murmured, head bowing. They stepped back, slowly, one two, three four.

A Garthim turned. This time it truly SAW them, beady eyes glinting in the night. It drew near, fast, speeding, focus fixed on them. SkekSpet’s feathers bristled in fright, UrSaat was raising his arms –

A sharp caw broke the air. A figure had swept in front of them, towering, long-faced and sharp-handed. A hand that raised in command to the creature. It halted, stopping in its tracks. The figure was glad in shreds, but SkekSept knew that beak, that gnarly skin.

He stepped back, cowering with UrSaat. The skeksis turned its head to look at him, a crooning smile on his face.

 

Him.

The Garthim moved again and he cawed at it again, blurting a command to stop. Putting himself between the beast and the boys. The jolt made SkekSept spring again, and he and UrSaat dove for the trees.

“I heard him. One of them, the Chamberlain...”

“He saved us – why?!”

“You are one of his. Maybe he wished to protect you.”

“I don’t know –“

SkekSil let the Garthim ambled away, smiling to himself in subdued glee as their words floated to his ears. This would be easy, very easy. If the  _UrRu_ of all creatures thought that...

“Mmm...”

He began following, quietly, slowly – with patience, letting them run ahead.

...

“I don’t understand!”

“Calm, friend...”

“It doesn’t make any sense – why attack them? Why did they help us? None of this world makes sense.”

“You, calm...” UrSaat was talking, his voice quiet, soft yet somehow as steady as a mountain under a snowstorm. He was sat on a rock. He liked sitting, and in doing so one would underestimate just how tall he was, taller than his companion, who had been pacing back and forth amidst the ruin for half an hour. They’d ran, then they’d walked. SkekSept had been restless, so he took the harder way; swinging from branches, batting them away, scuttling as his friend quietly slid through the tall grass and waded through the swamp.

The shadows of the ruin hung overhead, shrouding them in a kindly darkness. Pictures hidden by shadow, vines overgrowing like wrinkles on stone. SkekSept saw none of it, but UrSaat ran his hands slowly along the wall.

“Count to ten, friend.”

“I do not want to  _count to ten.”_

“One.”

A sigh. “Two.”

“Three.”

“Four, five, six, seven, eight...” SkekSept slumped down beside him, two arms on his knees; the other pair lifting to rub at his temples. He didn’t bother finishing the exercise. “I know numbers, but none else. Ironic.”

“We came to learn.” UrSaat murmured, a hand falling on his shoulder, “And I know you, and you know me. We know daylight and darkness. For some, that is all they have, and they survive.”

SkekSept scoffed, though his scorn was overshadowed by his uncertainty. He peered around the dark little place, the quiet murmur of the swamps rippling outside the ruin walls.

Then, something moved. It happened too quickly, one moment it was quiet then something was slipping out of the shadows.

SkekSept grabbed his companion and wrenched him up, ready to bolt, when a slimy, high-pitched and crooning voice drifted to him.

“Wait! Wait – stay, please, I will not harm you!”

Desperate, pleading –

He paused, looking over his shoulder. UrSaat stood up to his full height, contemplating, head tilting. SkekSept swallowed. His eyes broadened.

 _Him,_  clad in rags, the skeksis. Not as big as the loud one, in no way small. Well, he appeared smaller now, without all his finery...

“You...?”

The skeksis drew nearer and the two drew back, back feathers flaring. At once, the elder spoke, hand reaching but keeping back this time. “Don’t run – stay, please, I’m a friend! I promise you, little one. I am not here to harm you.”

“But you – you’re one of  _them_.” SkekSept said, his voice hardening.

The elder lowered his head, smiling, eyes lidded in what he probably assumed was a soothing look, “I saved you, didn’t I? There’s no need to be frightened.”

He made that noise again, the whiny noise like a cat. SkekSept forced a swallow, glancing around, then back at his friend, a hand moving to poke at his hand to signal his look. UrSaat cocked his head,

“...Why?”

“We are the same, you and I. All this misunderstanding, we were so alarmed, we frightened you away.” The skeksis droned, sadly, shaking his heavy head. Then he looked back to SkekSept, one hand lifting out, the other to his chest,

“I, too, have become an outcast – if we solve this trouble, perhaps neither of us will be.”

SkekSept’s eyes flickered left and right.

Inside, was turmoil.

_He could explain all of this. What happened, maybe he knows where the – other two went._

_We can’t trust him._

_Ask UrSaat – but then the skeksis will hear._

As if hearing his thoughts, UrSaat’s grip on his shoulder tightened. SkekSept pivoted his body, just a tad, and they ducked their heads, facing away from the chamberlain.

“Something isn’t right, but...he looks...harmless.” SkekSept mumbled, as quietly as possible. “...Wonder what they did to him.” UrSaat’s head turned, slowly, contemplating.

“He’ll have...much needed answers, perhaps. We may talk, but we will listen. To more than words. We run fast, you and I. We’ll keep our distance, You.”

SkekSept nodded once and turned back to SkekSil, smiling as always, through a spark of reproachfulness wormed its way into a glinting eye. “All right...Chamberlain.” He knew that word all right. Heard it, many times. “Let’s – let’s talk.”

The elder offered a hand, “Come – let us walk together, you and me, and your – friend. Mmmhmmm?”

SkekSept fiddled with the end of his sleeve, glancing back at UrSaat. He’d made no move to refuse, though a faint frown graced his thick skin.

“Walking is good. But we’ll decide the way.”

To both’s surprise, he turned, and began wandering further into the forests, hand trailing along the tree-trunks, slowly. SkekSept followed him, spinning on a heel, though he kept his eyes latched onto the chamberlain.

The elder blinked, for a moment, then smiled again, coming to prowl beside him as they walked, humming graciously to himself. “We have much to speak of, young one. We are going to be friends, no?”

SkekSept wondered why he stooped over like that, and why he made that noise, but made no move to ask those sorts of questions.

 .....

The jungle was quiet. Tranquil, even, shrouded in a hazy fog and a gentle night. Crickets sang; water dripped, a quiet symphony of nature.

Then a high pitched shriek tore through it all, accompanied by a chorus of snapping branches.

Sighing, the UrRu turned around to face his companions.

SkekSil may have been old, but he certainly didn’t consider himself frail. He got all the way out here on his own in a pretty impressive period of time. So when the remnants of his robes snagged on a branch and he toppled forward, part of him was furious when a certain teal-coloured fluff ball came barrelling over to catch him. But you see, the boy’s calculations were clearly wrong. No, someone of his stature could not catch another skeksis and keep himself upright. Nevertheless, SkekSept had sprinted over and latched all arms around SkekSil’s waist, steadying him before he could perform and impressive face plant in the floor. The Chamberlain’s yelp died in his throat and he simply gawked at the youth for a moment, then the gears in his head began to turn.

SkekSept pulled him up the best he could, shakily, “You fell...” He said, almost worriedly – though uncertainty laced his tone yet. The Chamberlain turned his head away, the smile coming to him as naturally as breath.

“Don’t worry yourself over me, my pet.” He petted the youth on the head, as gently as someone of his breed could manage. “I am fine.”

He straightened up and shuffled on. After a pause, SkekSept followed, easily overtaking him to catch up to his sightless companion, who was wading through the plants and trees as quietly as a shadow. He glanced back at SkekSil ever now and then. Chamberlain smiled, almost encouragingly.

 The UrRu had been watching him – or rather, paying attention to him. He knew it. But this – this was a golden opportunity. The youth was still wary, but he’d come to his aid so quickly – perhaps it was not too late to get on his good side after all.

“...So...you said we...were whole, once.” SkekSept said, quietly. “And that I’m...half of someone else.”

“Mmmhmmm. Indeed.” SkekSil drawled, as SkekSept gradually slowed to mimic his own pace. They wandered side by side; UrSaat – as he was apparently called – took up the lead. “We all where, long ago. But we are better off this way. We are our own selves.”

“...” SkekSept clearly didn’t know what to make of that, choosing instead to stare ahead at the darkened forest road. Expressions came to this child’s face too easily; though by all accounts he was on the cusp of adulthood, he knew so little, understood so little. It made things very easy.

“You will understand it in time. Do not worry.” He crooned, a hand moving to pet his back. SkekSept didn’t jump away, but his brow furrowed in worry.

“Why did the others – the loud one – attack us? If we are – the same?”

_Loud one?_

SkekSil tried to hide his grin and failed. “SkekUng. A brainless spit head, never mind him. They were simply startled, as I said. Your arrival...made the Emperor worried.”

“...Why?” SkekSept hesitated to ask. The Chamberlain hummed, thoughtfully.

“A mistake. He thought you were dangerous. But you are not, my boy.”

SkekSept’s lip curled. Obviously he agreed that there was nothing dangerous about him. At least, not in the sense he was thinking. But in a decade, when he was truly an adult, and the wariness and fear of youth had left him behind...maybe he would be. When he had all the answers. For once, time wasn’t abundant for the skeksis.

Of course, SkekSept knew none of this, and he never would.

UrSaat had come to a stop, arms out. Then, slowly, he sank to the dry moss floor and began padding his palms against it, looking for twigs. “We should rest here.”

SkekSil eyed him, humming mirthlessly. SkekSept saw no reason to disobey, plopping down quickly beside his friend. He looked at the elder expectantly, and SkekSil had refrained from rolling his eyes as he stooped down to settle at his side. “Hmm.”

What he wouldn’t give to be back in his old bed.

“Where...if we’re the same, where are your...other arms?” SkekSept asked, as the UrRu quietly stacked an ea pile of sticks from touch alone, his movements slow and lethargic. SkekSil huffed, glancing away.

“I have them, but they are of no use now.” To prove his point, he reached to his back, pulling aside a small tuft of rags so that his atrophied limbs. SkekSept obviously tried to repress a shudder – and failed. SkekSil’s eyes narrowed, but for the sake of his position, he kept his indignation mostly hidden. “Mmmhmmm. Age is an annoying thing, child, use your years well.”

He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness away. SkekSept blinking, head dipping a little and his eyes going to his hands. He was fiddling quietly with his fingers, picking at bitten nails. “...”

“We will be old, some day.”

UrSaat had spoken. SkekSil frowned. For an UrRu, there was a defined wakefulness to it. He’d even go as far to say that he sounded  _stern._ “That I understand. I don’t understand much. I can’t see, but...there are pieces that match what you, and the other crackling ones, where speaking of. I know there is a...bitterness.”

SkekSil’s eyes narrowed, a vague smiling playing about his beak. He’d just assumed, like many probably had, that the UrRu knew more, being a ‘mystic’ and whatnot – as his predecessors seemed to do when they stopped the cracks all those years ago. But now he saw that the young UrRu was just that, young – and probably didn’t know much more than his skeksis companion did. Maybe he was just _calmer_  about it. Maybe the fact that SkekSept seemed to think he knew more, that he in turn felt like he did. Maybe because of his reliance on him, he had to be that way. Who knew. What an odd little pair.

The UrRu’s brow furrowed in a fretful manner, though it was faint. Then, without voicing his concern, the expression ebbed away. SkekSept opened his mouth to say something, perhaps inquire –  _so he could pick up subtle expression already, something SkekSil noted_ – the Chamberlain cut him off.

“Mmm. Have you encountered your kind, blind one?”

His head tilted. “...So...there are more. I had a feeling.” SkekSept’s brow flew up.

“More UrSaats?”

“More UrRu.” SkekSil corrected, happy to be giving information. It made one feel important, to be the teacher who knew all. Well, compared to them, though he’d never see it that way. “Though they are rather...listless. Barely awake.”

“Hmm.” UrSaat’s noise of response was unreadable. SkekSept drew his knees up against his chest, staring skyward.

So they hadn’t run into the UrRu yet. Good. “It is better to let them be...” He really should be kicking himself for bringing them up, but what threat where the UrRu, anyway? They’d take no action against the skeksis, not with their own existence at stake. They’d done nothing for the gelflings, why do anything now?

He just didn’t want to give them any ideas.

“The other ones. The loud one, and such.” SkekSept said, suddenly, peering at him, “Do they have names? And Their UrRu?”

Ah, time for some wonderful, completely  _unbiased_  descriptions of his fellows. “The ‘loud one’ I told you of. SkeUng.”

“He pushed me.” UrSaat remarked, offhandedly, with perhaps the closet an UrRu could get to a passive aggressive  kind of reproach. SkekSept’s eyes narrowed.

“And – the one, the scientist, he called himself –“

“SkekTek. Slimy eel.” If he’d had his way, this youth would have probably been strapped into one of the draining chairs. But he wouldn’t mention that, “And there is SkekAyuk and SkekEkt...”

He painted a better picture of those two compared to the ones. By ‘better’ it was a little less scathing. SkekSept’s eyes shifted around, to the fire, as the information churned inside his head. UrSaat was listening, to, picking out names and words and descriptions, though what they looked like wasn’t much of an aid.

SkekSept didn’t understand ‘alliances’. Apparently, it was...almost like a friend. Somewhere between a person like UrSaat, a person to trust, a person that was...with him, to someone like the Emperor, who had ordered him to be...killed without a second thought.

He didn’t know much, but he knew what death was, and it scared him.

“SkekEkt is rather petty with that, one stain and he goes into a frazzle and knocks over the wine dish, probably making an even bigger mess and startling him even more...”

SkekSept’s beak twitched into a reluctant smile.

So they sat there, UrSaat listening with a tilt of the head, as if bobbing along to a tune only he could hear; SkekSept stifling childish giggles as SkekSil unintentionally hilarious accounts of his brethren. Things they considered terrible events really just boiled down to petty arguments.

After a while, SkekSept’s eyes began to droop. It was then that the chattering Chamberlain noticed that his companion had fallen asleep, resting quietly by the fire. SkekSept slid closer to him, resting his head against the UrRu’s side and curling up, arms crossing over his back and chest. He still listened, eyes blinking foggily, as the Chamberlain spoke of SkekOk and SkekShod, and mentioned how boring they were.

He knew very well that the boy was drifting off to sleep, and allowed to him to. Soon, his own voice trailed off; the crackle of the fire accompanied only by the hum of the forest and the youths’ steady breaths.

“You may see them again sooner than you realise.” He crooned, fully aware that the boy couldn’t hear him. “Mmm **mmm** mmm...”


	11. Sundered and Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chamberlain makes his move.

SkekSept wasn’t sure where they were going. Anywhere, really. But when did the Chamberlain begin taking the lead? It had been three days; perhaps, the moon had passed overhead that many a time. The youth was a little unnerved by how...well he was taking the fact the sky changed. A week ago the idea that ‘everything’ shifted constantly would surely send him into a quivering mess. But, he supposed, it was like a lot of things in his odd state of existence – he just...knew some things.

Other things, not so much. Like where they were going. The elder was wandering ahead, that seemingly permanent smile adorning his beak, eyes slightly lidded as if content. Despite the various scrapes on his hands. Probably from falling. SkekSept felt an uneasy feeling ache in his ribs at the thought.

UrSaat was between them. In fact, he seemed to be doing that a lot. Two arms extended, he felt along the tree trunks, the other two quietly fiddling with some string. Usually SkekSept liked to watch him weave cat’s cradles and other things of that nature, but right now his head was too...full.

He glanced over his shoulder at the jungle-forest behind them, then back ahead when he heard...SkekSil...making that mewling sound again. The older skeksis turned his head, caught him watching, and his smile broadened. “Hmhm.”

SkekSept hadn’t a clue what that meant. But, the elder sat down on a rock some yards ahead. Strange. He’d walked quite a long way, and yet when he made a move to sit down he was awfully slow about it. UrSaat caught up with him, then the skeksis youth.

“We should rest, yes.” SkekSil crooned to them, fully aware that UrSaat’s attention was fixed on him. “Hmm.”

“SkekSil,” The youth wondered, peering over his friend’s lean head to look at the elder, “Are we going somewhere?”

Did his eyes deceive him, or did he see something flicker in those twinkling eyes of his? “Away from the Garthim, Hmm. Not much of a destination.”

UrSaat sank down to settle on the moss. “Indeed.” He noted. SkekSept glanced between the two uncertainly.

“...I’ll be right back.”

UrSaat nodded quietly, idly fiddling with the moss, content. SkekSil beamed wryly his way.

“Mmmm.”

SkekSept didn’t know what urged him away from his companions and into the next clearing, but the space was welcome. He could see a cliff in the distance, signalling the forest ends. There was something almost...familiar about it. He couldn’t quite place it. He exhaled, slowly, breathing in the cold forest air, moving along when he heard something crackle.

He went still.

Was he holding his breath? The young skeksis turned his head, very slowly, in the direction he’d heard it. He saw nothing but darkness, brambles and thickets, where the trees began to give away into rocky formations. The moonlight seemed to dim.

A throaty holler broke the air. SkekSept drew back, body jarring, as a figure leapt onto that same rocky formation off the clearing. Outlined by the sky, he saw a sharp beak and milky eyes, hunched back sporting four arms. Hands curled like claws, and the  _noise._

That screech...

“...Y-you?” He whispered.

The other made a croak-like hiss, reptilian and vile as they lifted themselves up, sandy hair falling away from their brow. “Did you forget about  _me_?”

SkekSept felt the prongs on his back stand on end, he stepped away, his own arms rising, own back arching, as the other skeksis leaped down to level with him. Slowly, they began to circle, one perusing, and one evading. SkekSept didn’t understand this fear. He didn’t know why, but he felt there was a _legitimate_  reason to be afraid.

Milky eyes. Hadn’t SkekSil mentioned...

“You’re blind.” SkekSept mumbled. The other growled.

They lunged at him, he threw himself back. They clawed again, he evaded to the right, scrambling forward to escape. They jumped, strong legs sending them further along and they cut him off. SkekSept skidded to a halt, hands up.

“We – we  _are not enemies_!”

Another swipe, claws gleaming an inch away from his eyes. SkekSept kicked off the ground, putting space between them again, breath hitching, “I – I am not your enemy. The others – the old ones!”

The other’s beak swerved, their body seemed to twitch, and he knew he’d gotten their attention. He spoke slowly, shakily, “They want you dead, don’t they? They want me dead, too!”

“Why?” The other hissed, seizing the front of his robe and dragging him closer, “Why?!”

SkekSept had a feeling the ‘why’ wasn’t just for that singular question. The ‘why’ was for everything. And he could explain what little he knew, couldn’t he...?

Voice and body alike quivering, he spoke, “Th-they think we’ll take their p-power from them, whatever that is. They’re afraid of...of  **us.”**

A hand raised to claw at him, and seized his beak. The other paused, for a slit second, hand gripping the bone...and then they drew away, snarling.

SkekSept raised his arms, though they trembled still. “W-we are the same, you and I.”

The same.

Blind, sandy-haired. UrSaat. Perhaps, deep within his muddled mind, the youth was beginning to understand, without even knowing it. His friend’s counterpart, standing before him, the other half. His fellow. Same age, same worry for this world.

But apparently that sentiment wasn’t shared. The other skeksis snarled, loud and rippling, and they lunged. Some buried incentive exploded in SkekSept’s blood and when the other crashed into him he found his hands balling into fists and pummelling back, though he was weaker and smaller by far. They tumbled back, down a slope, bodies crashing through the thicket; the other youth sank their teeth into his arm and he kicked their beak with all his might.

Right back into UrSaat and SkekSil’s midst.

SkekSil’s short, barely audible gasp rang out, and the fighting resume. SkekSept leaped onto a tree trunk nearby, the other followed; he dove down to the thicket below, the other followed. He snatched up a long branch and raised it block the swipe – memories of fighting the endearing dubbed ‘Loud One’ springing to mind.

All the while, SkekSil watched, glancing once at the silly UrRu as it reached out, completely powerless to do anything. His lip curled, but at the same time, that familiar unsettled feeling had housed itself in his old ribs. Watching the two youths, battling it out – the gold one seized the thick branch between his jaws and snapped it straight out of the green-blue boy’s grip. SkekSept was fast, this other one was strong, and judging by the quick parrying, the former had already began to  _learn._

The elders were running out of time.

SkekSept, instead of defending, finally decided to make a bold move and attack back. He balled his fists again and struck the other across the face –

UrSaat made a muffled sound.

SkekSil forced down a smile. SkekSept had stopped, eyes widening, head pivoting around to look at his blind friend – and the other pounced, taking him to the floor. His squawk of horror was cut off.

SkekSil’s signature whimper rang through the air, by default. The golden youth’s head turned. Through their mind sang the words, angry and annoyed:  _Mewling one._

They shoved SkekSept away, letting him curl on the moss, and advanced on the elder. SkekSil’s eyes grew wide and he rose to his feet, shifting as quietly as possible to one side. Fool him once, have a laugh, fool him twice, perhaps avoid perishing in a gruesome way.

“mMMm...”

“Hsss!”

The golden one lunged at him, and he bolted, rather quickly despite everything. The loathsome creature tumbled into the bushes, momentarily distracted by the tangling vines. SkekSil peered around, snatching up and rock and tossing it light some yards away. Again, the youth went for it, but this time, kept their balance. He growled upon finding nothing.

SkekSept dragged himself to his feet, legs buckling, “Don’t you understand me? If anything, it’s us and them!”

The other’s head whipped around.

And –

**_“Neverrr!”_ **

He lunged. SkekSept reached down, pawed around for some kind of weapon –

And UrSaat’s long arms encircled the other’s waist, and he swung him around, tossing him cleanly away out of the clearing. Down another slope, they tumble, skidding to a dizzy halt. They lay there, for a moment, and SkekSil peered over, smiling smoothly.

The youth dragged themselves up, hiss, and began trudging away. Apparently they’d had enough rough-housing.

They ran off into the dark.

“Mmmhmm.”

The whole while, SkekSept was trying to catch his breath, chest wracking with ever heave. He plopped himself down on the moss, half-dazed.

UrSaat. UrSaat saved them.

He grinned, shakily, but then he saw the UrRu double over, clutching his arms. Confusion muddled in his brain and the young skeksis padded over, taking hold of his companion’s arm...

...And he saw fresh bruises, blossoming on creamy skin. SkekSept didn’t understand this feeling. It felt like something was filling up his throat, his chest, his hands started to spasm, not quiver. “UrSaat?” His voice cracked.

“I am fine, you.” UrSaat murmured, but something in his voice wavered. He sunk down, too quickly, to the floor, and SkekSept found himself wrapping all four arms around him. This time, UrSaat’s head fell against  _his_  chest. But he was scared to hold him too tight.

His eyes wouldn’t settle, they stayed wide. Nearby, he saw SkekSil wielding what he probably thought was a soothing smile.

“Hmm. What you feel, your other half feels. He and that crazed little brute are two halves.”

SkekSept felt like he’d been struck in the gut. The bruises swelling on his companions arm? Every hit he’d landed on the other?

He’d been...?

His eyes were leaking. Was...was he ill?

“I’m sorry.”

“I am fine, You.” A hand gripped his shoulder, tight. “Now we know. Now we...”

He trailed off.

SkekSept had no idea how long he sat there, clutching him close, and staring at nothing, while SkekSil stared at  _them._

_...._

It was dark and the night was humid, the forest trees grew ever-so-slightly, and gradually, sparser. With every mile. They had stopped to rest, for the fifth time that day. UrSaat was asleep, and SkekSept was staring into the darkness. Crestfallen didn’t even begin to describe him. The quiver of the jungle, the jeer of its animals, it all synchronised in a way that made the quiet between them all the more notable. SkekSept’s eyes fell, reluctantly the Chamberlain noted, to the mystic. His chest rose and fell, steady and strong, but the bruises on his long arms looked worse than ever. Dots were nails had dug into his counterpart’s arm.

Nails on hands, hands SkekSept stared down at next, oddly still. Usually the boy was shaking, fidgeting, peering around like a hatchling. But now he could’ve been a statue in the dark, with how wide his eyes were.

“Mmmmmm.”

His eyes flickered towards him, and SkekSil beamed, smoothly. “He does not blame you. You shouldn’t burden yourself with such things.” Especially when you had  _so_  much more to worry about, he crooned in his head.

“...Thank you.”

“Hmmm?”

SkekSept’s brow crinkled, as if he were still half-confused. “That’s what you say, isn’t it? When you’re...happy that someone’s done something?”

“Gratitude.” SkekSil crooned in confirmation. What a lovely opportunity. He stood, and came to sit by the youth once more. The fire, rather weak-willed, swayed unevenly in the night air. SkekSept didn’t flinch away. He didn’t really budge at all. “Though I’m inclined to know why. My presence is a gift enough, I know...”

An odd, reluctant smile passed over the youth’s face, as if he was amused – but very unsure of why he found the elder’s words funny. His mind only picked the wit halfway. The beam was gone very soon, though. “You helped me. Stop...them.”

Them? Ah. The Other. Unnamed. Would he ever comb a name from his shattered memories, as all the skeksis had – SkekSept included? He glanced, less kindly, at the sleeping UrRu. UrSaat had claimed his name, so the other would have the other fragment. Hm.

No time to dwell over the names. His smile stretched silkily across his beak, “You are welcome. Hmm.”  Affable, always. The youth heaved a sigh, and went quiet, watching the leaves curling into ash by the fire.

“...Why are we here, SkekSil?”

Hearing his name so informally jarred him, breaking him out of his poise for a moment. SkekSil blinked, before resuming his calm motive, turning his head towards the sky. “I do not know. You two came here whole, for something. Perhaps curious. Hmm.” He almost chuckled, then, but decided not to. Curiosity. If anything should be named a vice, it should be that!

“Whole.” SkekSept murmured. It sounded like a lament.

SkekSil’s eye slid back towards him, with a hidden sharpness the boy didn’t see. That idea wouldn’t do at all. “You are free now, and a different being. It is time to move on ahead.” SkekSept’s eyes drifted to him, and he didn’t blink. That could have been a slip up.

But the boy’s attention returned to his UrRu, any suspicion that existed evaporating. A more sullen look crossed his silvery beak. “...I’m so lost in this world. I relied on UrSaat, but he doesn’t know all. No one does.”

SkekSil did not answer. He wasn’t quite sure he was meant to. “All will become clear soon. Mm **mm** mm.”

Another odd smile. SkekSept glanced at him, “Why do you, um, do that?”

SkekSil’s smile remained very much the same, though his eyes narrowed perhaps. “Expression.” And that was to it. SkekSept sighed, quietly, setting his hands on his lap. “I hope it is soon rather than later.”

Oh, dear child, SkekSil thought, staring into the dark, It shall be.

SkekSept’s eyes fell, eventually, and he nodded off – still sitting upright. The Chamberlain left him be. He looked between him and the UrRu, allowing his smile to grow crooked. Mangled teeth grunted, briefly, in the firelight.

Soon indeed.

...

Early morning came, and they wandered again. SkekSil oh-so-subtly taking the lead as SkekSept occupied himself with helping UrSaat along. He could barely keep his head up, with the taller’s arms strung over his nimble, scrawny shoulders. “Chamberlain.” He called, unevenly, “Is there somewhere to rest nearby?”

“Oh, yes.” They elder crooned from ahead. “I know this trail. Mm **mm** Mmm.” He was getting further and further ahead. The ground had grown dryer, the trees spaced out, but still they cut off the immediate few. SkekSept couldn’t concentrate on that. UrSaat wasn’t speaking much. He simply allowed himself to be half-carried along. Where was SkekSil?

He could only really look at his feet, and below his feet was rock. “UrSaat?” He inquired, voice raising an octave higher in worry. His companion didn’t answer. “SkekSil?” Louder still.

A rocky muddle of moss, bushes and heather towered up ahead, sprouting between the cracks. A thin line of trees blocked the trail before him. SkekSept huffed, growing breathless, and heaved his companion onward. Through the trees, he peered around. “Chamberlain...?”

His voice died. His body went rigid. The forest cut off entirely here, just...stopping. A steep slope, and then flat, barren land going on for miles. And it was all too familiar.

There was the castle, sitting upon the torn wasteland. They’d been led right back to it.

SkekSept was too busy gaping in horror to think. Wh...wh...but –

Something hit him roughly from the side, knocking him over. UrSaat fell from his grip and tumbled out of sight. Harsh rock collided painfully with the youth’s side, and he screwed his eyes shut to force off the jar. Then he pried them open, giving a start. The Chamberlain loomed over him, it was like an entirely different being had arisen, shred from the skin he’d been wearing for days. SkekSept tried to scramble back upright, but his legs failed him. “Y-you...”

“Come, now, there is no other way.” The Chamberlain breathed, reaching down, SkekSept recoiled away from the bony hand as much as he could, “You must come, now. Don’t flee!”

SkekSept wrenched himself back to his feet, but the claw-like fingers dug into his shoulder, impossible tight, surprisingly strong, old and frail SkekSil was stronger still. He squirmed, trying to throw himself back. “S-stop!”

He dug his feet into the rock, but the Chamberlain mercilessly tugged him forward.  

He couldn’t go back to the castle. Panic, swelling, bubbling, he knew what would happen if he returned. His voice broke. “Please ** _! Stop_**!”

A figure threw itself at the Chamberlain from behind, wielding a rock – and brought it down on his arm. The skeksis hollered, his voice tearing at SkekSept’s eardrums, but even then he did let go. He swerved, rounding on UrSaat, half-bent, blind eyes wide.

SkekSil stared, aghast, at the blood dribbling down his shoulder. Then he jerked,

“UrRu!” He screeched, infuriated, SkekSept’s petrified look flickered between them –

“You  ** _die!”_**

SkekSil shoved the mystic back. And he fell back, down the high slope. SkekSept felt something in him turn to ice.

“ _No!”_

He hurtled himself forward to follow, to see, to do something...but the Chamberlain’s arms circled around his waist and practically hoisted him back. His voice hitched in his throat, he tried to hit him, but he couldn’t see him properly. “No – let me go! Chamberlain, _why_  -?”

Behind him, SkekSil had curled his hand around a rock, and lifted it high. In a fluid sweep he cracked it over the back of the boy’s head, nowhere near enough to kill him...but enough to make him go as limp as a doll in his arm. SkekSil shifted him in his grip, and began dragging him along. The youth’s feet ran loosely across the stone.

It would be difficult to get him all the way to the castle, but SkekSil was more resilient than most gave him credit for. And the skinny little waif wasn’t that heavy. It had been terribly easy, so easy he scarcely dwelled on it.

Down the other slope, less hazardous, half-carrying the boy with him. Hmm. If the UrRu had perished...then the other one would’ve dropped down dead somewhere.

Perhaps that solved two problems at once, that ferocious little beast was of no valid use. He’d be sure to remind his  _fellows_ of that.

To the castle he went. Lightning quivered in the distance.


	12. One Made Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things escalate.

Cold. Legs dragging. Arms, neck, all of it, aching. Chill in the fingers, but something warm was trickling down his neck, on the back of his head. The world blossomed out of the darkness; he saw his own hands, arms hanging by his beak. He flexed his fingers. Memories came back to him, one by one, each hammering hard into his ribs and snatching his breath  _clean away._

SkekSept lifted his head. Pain thrummed in his skull. He saw halls. Pillars. Flickering second-hand light, and at once he knew where he was, he knew this smell of must and this stale air, and empty corridors filled with unease. He was suddenly aware that he was being half-carried, a pair of arms slung around his waist and dragging him like a sack of flour. He pulled his legs up and tried to regain his feet, but they seemed to slip out from beneath him.

A turn of his chin, and he saw the Chamberlain, clutching him to his chest and looking onward. He hadn’t noticed he was awake, but he would, soon, SkekSept’s mind burst with horror and he  _yanked_ himself back –

Not fast enough. The rag-clad elder gave a loud, shrill noise of alarm and wrenched him back, his grip digging painfully into his side. SkekSept tried to elbow him, but he was all turned out, dizzy, his arms felt  _boneless._

The other skeksis yanked him further down the hall. SkekSept dug his feet down; the sound of his skin scraping across the floor rang out like a squeak, “You –“

_You._

_He hurt UrSaat._

_He **killed –**_

Chest tight, horror flooding, senses dousing in it, his legs almost buckled again. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t...

SkekSil crooned, that horrible, hateful mewling sound, and tugged him onward down the hall. He’d gone limp again, almost; SkekSept gripped his face, his beak, as his entire body trembled.

But then. Something unfamiliar, a burning sensation he’d never felt, blasted through his veins, riding on his blood. SkekSept’s hands fell away from his face, and balled into fists. Tighter, until his knuckles hurt. But his legs weren’t working yet, not yet –

“Chamberlain -?”

“Chamberlain – Get out, get out!”

Those voices. The bulky one and the one with all the jewels and flitter, they’d come around the corner. SkekSil looked over his shoulder at them. The boy tried to take this moment to wriggle away, but once again he was hoisted back and into view. SkekEkt and SkekAyuk reeled.

“The young thing!” The ornamentalist shrieked, aghast; hand over heart as if he were poisonous. SkekAyuk didn’t fare much better, but their glares replaced their alarm momentarily. SkekSil hummed delightedly to himself. SkekSil struggled; trying to pry his hands away but still he couldn’t so much as lighten the grip.

The two newcomers watched, leaning in but keeping a good yard between their pairs, as if they were curious but too affronted to draw near to him. SkekSept looked their way, face frozen, but they looked back at him in that strange, aloof way, like they saw him far differently than he saw them.

They followed, at a distance, as SkekSil dragged him forward. The youth knew this archway, the throne room was up ahead. And, with an eerie sensation that this had happened all before, he found himself back amidst the crowd of those he decided he  _loathed._

They were all gaping again, The Emperor’s spectre almost slipped out of his gnarly grasp. The Ritual Master looked insulted as well as taken aback. Several furious mutters sprung up in the huddle, but SkekSept didn’t care to listen. He tried to shake the Chamberlain off again, his attempts growing desperate, to no avail.

The boy’s scowl was making his brow ache, no matter how much he trembled.

“Mmm. Your Majesty.” SkekSil purred, bowing briefly – he pulled SkekSept with him and  _he hated him_  – “I bring you...the boy.”

SkekTek and SkekUng exchanged incredulous looks, as the gourmand and his companion rejoined their midst. “...!”

“ _Kill_  him!” SkekNa yelled, suddenly. “He’s caused too much trouble, away with the waif!”

“Get rid of him, Sire!” SkekUng bellowed, slamming a fist down on the unfortunate side of the throne. SkekSo didn’t appreciate that, hissing his way,

“General...!”

“Let us take his essence, first!”

SkekSil’s arm drew around SkekSept’s shoulders, pulling him close again – the boy cringed, horrified, but he couldn’t move. Essence? What was essence? “Nay! _I_  decide!”

SkekSo stood up, slowly. The quiver in his arms as he heaved himself up didn’t go unnoticed. SkekSept felt a frown, his own to match the Emperor’s, mould clumsily onto his face.

“You have defied us too much,  _boy.”_

The sceptre glinted as it was brandished. “SkekTek.” He turned his narrow head towards the scientist, whose smirk grew horribly wide. SkekAyuk and SkekEkt actually looked  _afraid._

At this unsaid command, the scientist moved forward. SkekSept looked back, up at SkekSil, eyes wide. A cheer rang up, loud, cackling, the others were ecstatic.

SkekSil looked a little taken back, too. For a moment, perhaps the briefest second, he looked hesitant. But then SkekTek’s good hand grasped the boy’s shoulder, and he let him go.

“And while you’re at it, return the Chamberlain’s robes to him...”

That did it.

SkekSept threw himself away from them both, kicking with as much strength as he had. The sleeve of his robe tore and he barrelled onto the floor with a thud. Most of the surrounding elders jumped.

He leaped to his feet, stumbling, but managing to keep his balance. He threw out an arm – SkekOk and SkekShod, closest to him, actually winced – and the boy forced his lungs to work into words.

“I will not be dragged or  _dealt_ with anymore!” He yelled, his voice cracking, deeper. “I’ve had it!”

They all growled, all at once, a collection or  _arghs_ and hisses of...surprise? What were they so alarmed by, it was just him. SkekSept.

In his mind, though, an image appeared. Of the Other, golden-feathered, pale-eyed and frightening. A vicious creature that clawed, bit, and pounded.

He also saw UrSaat’s bruises the image clean in his head. SkekSept lowered his arms, slowly, glancing at each of them one by one. Then he looked at his hands, all four of them, and curled them back into fists.

“What are you all so...afraid of?”

It was like something had...flickered. Something changed, in the air. SkekSept raised his head and saw all of them staring right into him, and their expressions, the way they looked  _changed._

SkekUng snarled. He began storming forward, and the others goaded him on, yelling for the boy’s blood, the Emperor made no move to halt him. SkekSept stepped back, once, twice, again, horror sweeping across his face again.

**_“RAAAAAAAAARRRGGHHHH!”_ **

It split the air. It tore at the smog. The shriek made their entire bones rattle. Everyone present, every beak, jerked upwards to look at it. A figure standing on top of the high, high throne, frame outlined by the torchlight and flickering lightning outside. SkekSept soft gasp rang out, barely audible.

The other ended his screech, double over again, and hissed.

Panic erupted.

“Two of them!”

_“They will destroy us!”_

SkekSept felt his body grow light. The other was living. So...that meant...

UrSaat was...

He breathed. And the other leaped down from above, landed in a crouch with a crack. All but SkekSept drew back. Instead, the other youth swallowed and stood his ground, however shaky that may be.

Why had they come?

“You...” SkekSept murmured, as quietly as possible. The other was eyeing, or the sightless equivalent. He has their full attention, either way. SkekSo pressed himself against the back of his throne, the two youths between him and the circling others. He looked infuriated as well as frazzled.

The golden-rod youth drew nearer, one arm acting as a third leg, closer. SkekSept took but one step back, arms rising.

“We are the same. It’s us and them. You and me, UrSaat and...”

_Onze._

Behind him, unseen by the two, the elders looked horrified. The golden youth growled, lowly, to themselves. SkekSept smiled the best he could. “I am SkekSept, and you, you are...”

The beast snarled. The boy almost drew back, but then he spoke again. “ _Hdax._  Hdax...”

His beak turned, his attention moved. SkekSept could almost feel it turned away from him...to the crowd behind him, SkekUng, the loud one, and the others. The teal youth turned to face, them, too, as SkekHdax drew up straighter.

The elders gawked at them. Then, the General’s face contorted in fury.

“GARTHIM!”

SkekSept balled his fists, and SkekHdax readied himself with a guffaw. 

....

Snap. Snap.

Noise, so much noise. The soft one had escaped. Harder to hurt, that one. It – he – had a beak. He. What is he? Why did the noisy ones use it? They didn’t know, and that made them take a bunch of branches and snap them in two. One by one, snap. Their arms hurt, their face hurt. The flesh ached and the bones sang in pain. But why? How?

Beak. The soft one had a beak, too. What had he been jabbering? The same.

There were no negotiations this time. The Garthim’s telltale chattering rang into the air from either side of the throne room; those that had sat dormant like decorations to the left and right of the throne sprung to life. SkekSept felt his resolve waver, but in his head he had but a single chant – survives, get back to UrSaat. Escape.

SkekHdax attacked first, hollering like a beast. He went for SkekUng, the closest, the loudest, and the most obvious. An impressive back-hand sent the other youth reeling, and SkekSept reached out involuntarily to catch him –

He caught his shoulders, thrust him back up, and gave him a boost back into battle. The other pounced, kicking off the ground, the added momentum sending him crashing head-first into the Garthim Master and knocking his bulky form off its feet. SkekSept gawked. He hadn’t meant to fall into such an action, it happened so swiftly and SkekHdax hadn’t fought him –

“Surrender peacefully, and you can go free!”

The voice, so horribly soft amidst the growls, howling and vicious calls from the others, slid through like a buttered knife. SkekSept spun on his heel, and his hand lifted out – SkekSil was nearby, he had to find something, something to fight with –

SkekHdax (currently dodging SkekUng’s swipes, and the added jabs from the scientist’s cane) had caused a lot of fabrics and beams to tear away from the adornments over the throne. A metallic road lay between them and the other boy snatched it up. How had the Garthim Master done it? Both hands, bring up to shoulder, and swing  _sideways –_

He saw the elder’s eyes bulge as he mimicked the pose, wobbly and cautious, and he swung the pole full force towards SkekSil. He saw the Chamberlain’s eyes widen, his face stricken and smile stripped away.

SkekHdax heard it, heard the clang, the whimpering one wail. Ha. Deserved it, slimy, annoying. The soft one, he’d hit him. Soft one hits other soft one. Good. They got the bigger one. Hear the air move, fabric flittering on a swinging arm – all too easy to hear them coming.

But the clicking things were getting closer. They bore their teeth, and growled a loud warning with a tipping of the head.

SkekSept saw the gesture, so obvious with the odd jerk of the other youth’s skull that it couldn’t be ignored. The other elders – those not as bold or brave as SkekZok and SkekUng – had drawn back. He saw why. The garthim were closing in from every angle.

He drew the pole back up to his shoulder, trying not to shake. Or look at SkekSil, who knelt on the floor, clutching a bruising cheek and bleeding beak. “...” He looked too thunderstruck to react just yet. Now he does the feeling?

That strange emotion brought a bad taste to his mouth. He couldn’t quite name it – bitterness? What an odd feeling...

Garthim. Concentrate.

He hopped closer to SkekHdax. They’d backed away from SkekUng, to catch their breath. Fear was too thin to get though to them, it seemed. “You can’t fight them all, we have to leave.”

A growl.

“Right now.”

The garthim’s crab-like limbs reached out for them. SkekHdax leaped, kicking off it, sending themselves scuttling towards the halls. SkekSept managed to slink between two of them, their clicking becoming a confused entropy of clattering. They still didn’t know whether to kill or attack them, as they were technically –

He cut off that thought, disregarding the furious, barely-intelligible yells from the elders, and followed SkekHdax. Yes. He was following a blind lunatic into a dark hallway. Not the best option. But this hall was unfamiliar, it smelled of musk and the further they went in, zigzagging on much faster legs between corridors, he realised there were no lamps lit, no garthim. This part of the castle was...vacant, mostly.

They kept going.

The halls grew quiet, and then smelled like dust. Wooden, crumbling beams held the ceilings up instead of stone.

His breathing grew laboured, but he kept going. SkekHdax paused, skidding between two splitting halls. SkekSept peered down each; lightning igniting the way through the windows. He could see arches, and when he poked his head through he saw...chambers. But they were empty.

“Why would they have so many empty chambers?” He muttered. There weren’t that many, after all. SkekHdax growled. They probably didn’t understand, and didn’t care.

_Ring._

Two balls of purple were glittering in the darkness further behind them. SkekSept felt himself seize up. SkekHdax had slowed down, so he had to be tired out now, too. His legs were aching, and he could still feeling the sticky dampness of his – blood – running down his neck.

They couldn’t fight. He grimaced, but lifted his pole all the same. His companion hissed violently as the garthim shimmied towards them.

SkekSept’s eyes blurred. He saw the wooden beams, crumbling around the edges. He saw the garthim heading right for it, and for once, something came together in his head with a complete  _snap._

He swept forward to the pillar, standing in front of him, back going rigid. Wait. Wait. The creature was getting closer, speeding up. He forced himself to stay in place, just a little longer.

The lightning crackled, and the garthim reached for him. At that precise moment, he ducked out of the way and tossed himself back. He collided with SkekHdax the same moment the garthim unwittingly severed the beam.

The ceiling in the previous hall crumbled all at once. Blocks or rock fell, wood split, the other grubby beams followed suit. A cloud of dust burst from the debris and SkekSept inhaled a good lungful. He doubled over, hacking, as SkekHdax slammed his hands over his head, hating the noise.

Then, silence. It was over in a split second. SkekSept looked over his shoulder, running his tongue over his teeth uncertainly.

The corridor behind them was entirely blocked off.

Blocked off...?

If they – no.Yes. Seal off. The elders couldn’t phase through walls, could they? And they couldn’t really hide anywhere else...

SkekHdax was kicking the stones, sniffing irritably. SkekSept turned to them, hesitant. “I...think I have an idea. Will you – stay with me?”

...

Stay. Stay with the soft one. Them,  _they will destroy us._ **Us**  being those other ones. Other ones attacked them both. Yes, they made the connection. Didn’t like it. But they could understand, now, that other creatures, others could do  _something_  that they could not. Use something. They had a missing piece.  **He** had a missing piece that SkekHdax didn’t. Need him.

“Yes. We.”

“And them.”

...

“The waifs have sealed themselves in the vacant quarters!”

“ _What?”_

“The main exits caved in – they haven’t been used for over a hundred years, so we did not think do –“

“Bah! Break through the debris and - ”

“Silence!”

The shrill screech was emitting from the throat of the Emperor, ending the chattering at once. An ominous murmuring erupted instead, the skeksis elder’s eyes were narrowed; the glances exchanged between them were dark and dripping with malice. It had been so long since – anything had occurred. Centuries. They weren’t accustomed to it. But now the shock had more or less faded.

SkekSo lowered his sceptre slowly and deliberately. “Uncap their hidey-hole and they’ll scatter like the rats they are. They believe they’ve found a safe haven for now – I believe they’ve trapped themselves. We will wait. We will starve them out and when they are too weak to escape, we’ll slaughter them where they stand – the runt and that animal.”

A gaggle of assented came in the wake of his speech. SkekUng was pleased with the promise of some blood – but the idea of waiting irked him.

SkekZok drew his hand down his collar. There was no hope for the waifs now, not that it pained him. But it was a waste, at the end of the day.

Beside him, nursing a swollen face, was SkekSil. For once, he wasn’t smiling. Unbeknownst to his fellows, who were chattering to each other in familiarly low tones, he remained silent. Uncharacteristic, he thought to himself. He ought to get back o playing his role.

But he was too angry at the moment. His eyes narrowed. “Mmmmmm...”

He still tasted blood on his tongue. He had his position back; his robes once again clad his frame. But the waifs had spoiled his good mood  _and_  his beak.

The Emperor’s plan was a little plain. Straightforward, dull. It was the least the Chamberlain could do to give it a little  _thrill._ Why make it easy?

Perhaps a smile brushed his lips, perhaps not. 


	13. A Dying Race

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our duo take refuge in the old empty wings of the castle.

_Tch. Tch._

Bony, red-raw hands clutched small shards of stone, striking them together with the telltale clumsiness of a newcomer. The sparks that flew from between the stones were too small. Another shaky breath, another few strikes, and the sparks found the end of the bundle of sticks. What was left of the old rafter beams.

The makeshift torch ignited, and SkekSept could see more than a foot in front of him again. Nearby, his companion must have felt the heat or smelled the flame, as their head turned and they let off a throaty, clucking sort of growl.

SkekSept drew himself up, slowly.

“We’d...better map out the place. See what’s here and..plan, right?”

“...” SkekHdax didn’t reply, and he took that as some form of an agreement.

They walked. SkekHdax had an odd, stooped posture, and he moved with emphasis on his feet rather than his arms. SkekSept couldn’t quite understand, but decided not to ask. Around a corner, passing intricate carvings in the walls. Odd, twisting pillars made of stone. The youth’s brow furrowed.

“I don’t understand.” He murmured, his voice hovering further than normal in this vacant corridor. “Why would there be...so many empty places?”

He lifted his torch through an archway. A rocky pedestal, longer and broader than himself, lay embedded in the centre. Had....some kind of bed been there once? The skeksis held the torch out further. Old curtains, torn and drained of all colour.

A breeze nibbled his feet.

The torch went out. His breath hitched, but he could still see a bit. The outside light, whatever sourced it, lightning, the moon hidden by dark clouds, drenched the chamber in a dull grey-blue.

SkekHdax slammed a foot down.

He whirled around, arms up. The golden-haired youth had gone completely still, one feet digging into the dirt. Then, an arm swung out – it was so strange,  seeing one part of him move while the rest remained a stiff as a statue – and snapped his fingers.

The noise seemed to bounce off the walls. SkekSept lowered his arms, his mind turning. “...Is...that how you can tell?”

“...” SkekHdax grunted, softly. SkekSept felt his unease fade a little.

“UrSaat uses his hands; sometimes he makes a clicking sound in his throat. I don’t think he even realises he’s doing it...” Why did he say something? Well. SkekSept didn’t describe how he used his eyes, so...

“...More. Ways.” SkekHdax moved forward, down the hall. SkekSept followed them uncertainly through the dimness.

Another chamber. SkekHdax peered inside, blank, unfocused eyes narrowed. Probably unintentional. SkekSept bit his lip. Inside was...a cluster of tables. Scrolls, maps. Caked in dust. He drew near, feeling the unease return. He dusted off the nearest scroll, rolling it open.

Strange marks greeted his eye.

Something about them struck him as familiar. But it was one of those incomplete explanations in his head.

But...

He swept off another sheet of soot. A...drawing. Another skeksis. But, he didn’t recognise this one. Bulky, circular adornments hung around his head, and things that looked like beaks were plated on his armour.

Beside the scroll lay...something similar to the one in the picture. The skeksis in the image wore it on their forearm; a green fabric with plated metal below the elbow. Curiously, the boy scooped it up, and clumsily began to fascine it around his own limb.

He flexed his fingers, experimenting. Ooh. Had he been a skeksis that knew many armour names, he’d have known it was called an ‘armguard’. Though, with the head-wound still swelling on his skull, he’d be better off with a helmet...

Tap, tap, tap.

SkekSept peered over at his companion. And froze.

There was a gallery of little recess in the wall, stretching up for what seemed like miles. Now that he was closer, he saw what they were. Skulls. Many different kinds. Creatures he’d never seen. Another – other parts of animals. Claws and wings. A grisly collection.

“...Th-there were more of them, but...where did they go?”

“...Death?” SkekHdax countered, quietly.

“...How?”

His companion had no answer.

SkekSept came to stand beside them. He looked at their face, their head. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he saw the scar on the back of their head, their beak. UrSaat felt it, too.

It was funny. SkekHdax’s hair fell over his brow, his eyes and beak in thick, floppy bangs, but he golden-bronze youth didn’t seem to mind. It reminded him even more of UrSaat.

He’s alive, somewhere. Moving easily, like SkekHdax is. The boy closed his eyes.

_RING._

They both swept around. That sound, that sound – garthim, or something else?!

“Bat.” SkekHdax swept forward – towards the stone bed frame, and dove under it. His hand coiled around the other youth’s and dragged him with them. They huddled beneath the stone, their stomachs pressing against dust. SkekSept felt a wave of terror sweep over him, next, as he saw what it was.

In the hall, blurring with motion, was some kind of – thing. Flying, jagged, with a bulbous purple gem encrusted in its body.

He clutched his own beak, forcing himself to keep quiet, to keep his breaths steady. SkekHdax was as still as a lizard in camouflage.

They stayed there for a long time.

...

“Where are they?” A gruff voice drawled.

The others had taken to their chambers, too distressed an anxious to continue watching. The crystal bats had scoured the abandoned chambers, and found nothing and no one. Yet. The Emperor didn’t wish to concern himself with that folly; he demanded to be sent for once something of note was spotted.

That left SkekOk, SkekSil, SkekTek and the Ritual Master to glower at the image presented in the crystal.

“If you had made sure you’d slain the UrRu, we wouldn’t have this issue on our hands.” SkekZok said, slow and sharp. The Chamberlain made no comment, but anyone worth their mince would see his beady eyes narrowing.

“Hmm.”

“It is natural that they would latch onto one another.” SkekTek remarked, adjusting his cane slightly, eyeing the dim, buzzing image. “We did, didn’t we? Though that little one is far too soft to survive on his own – he NEEDS protection; if the savage one hadn’t been there...”

“He is blind and reckless.” SkekZok cut in –and he glanced at SkekUng as he said it, as if seeing some resemblance or trying to make a passing insult. “It will be his undoing.”

The Garthim Master actually seemed to be concentrating on one singular thing. But he sneered at their jabbering, deciding that staring at the surveillance of the crystal bat was more important than backhanding his fellows.

SkekOk drew a hand down his beak, contemplating. “...But if they do not? If the gelfling are anything to go by – if OUR accounts are anything to go by, they will learn quickly. They could be planning something now...”

“What makes you say that?” SkekSil sang, mockingly gentle. The smallest skeksis indignantly cleared his throat.

“Well. They’ve managed to hide pretty well. They must have figured out our Crystal Bats.”

SkekZok didn’t disagree, couldn’t really. So he voiced his disgruntlement with a sharp sigh.

...

It took them thirty minutes to decide to come out of their hiding spot. SkekSept vowed never to light another torch, and followed his companion’s soft, but sharp clicking. He tip-toed behind him, staring into the dark, terrified of catching a glimpse of purple.

Purple. He hated that colour.

“We can’t keep hiding in here.” He said. The gears in his brain were speeding off the handle. “We – we need to figure out something. What’s the word? Plan.”

“...These things you talk about. I know them not.”

That was the longest sentence he’d ever heard his fellow youth utter. It was a growl. They had sat Themselves nearby, as UrSaat did, slumped over, elbows placed upon their knees.

Quietly, SkekSept sat down beside them. By the way they turned their head, they seemed to know he’d done so quite easily.

“...SkekHdax. You know that you and I are – the same.”

A stiff nod. He knew what nods where, but knew less than SkekSept did it seemed. Was it because he was blind? Or because he hadn’t been around someone else? He’d never know.

“...Do...do you know what ‘sight’ is, SkekHdax?” He murmured, hesitantly. The other youth’s brow creased.

“...Pictures. Lost. You have them.”

...Ah.

“...SkekSil – the mewling one.” He shared the loathing; SkekHdax looked ready to tear something in two. “He told me that all of us were whole once. With the UrRu – the one that was with me. That’s why you – felt pain, when UrSaat was injured.”

His companion openly flinched at the name.

SkekSept fiddling quietly with his own hands. “He can’t see, either. You were one person, once. That’s why things are – incomplete, in your head. Unfinished sentences.” He missed him. Badly. He felt cold and exposed without him.

He was used to having someone side-by-side with him. SkekSil had changed that.

“Names. Words.” SkekHdax rasped, lowly. “I don’t remember.”

“...Neither do I. I think I did,” The teal-youth said, staring over the empty chamber. “But it was like a dream. I forgot it all as soon as I ran out of that chamber.”

He couldn’t fathom it now. Being someone else. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re us now, and we’re going to survive. I’m going to find UrSaat.” And maybe...

“...The other ones want us to die.” SkekHdax noted foully.

SkekSep allowed a not-so-rare scowl to cross his face. “...Yes. They do.” 

...

How cold, and how quiet. His eyes had grown used to the dark, the sound of his footsteps. He learned to muffle them, to tip-toe. He was aware of the stale air on his skin, that if he could hear his heartbeat, then he was silent to all else. It would be useful, one day.

SkekHdax’s clicks and taps became ambient background noise, just like UrSaat’s offhanded hums and swaying. His chest ached, his breath grew quick, there was a fresh child-like panic that pricked at SkekSept’s mind whenever he was reminded that his companion wasn’t there.

It didn’t get better, but it didn’t get worse.

Between he and SkekHdax came a strange confirmation, an agreement, a decision. Us and them. They had to do...something. It was, again, one of those ‘halved’ explanations. The split left them with only pieces of the bigger picture.

They had to survive.

“We could escape again.”

His companion sneered, “They follow. Bring you back.”

Why me, SkekSept thought. The Chamberlain –thinking of him and his decaying blue-grey skin, a horrible reflection of his own, made his stomach turn – had aimed to kill UrSaat – and by extension, SkekHdax. They were more afraid of the smaller, less formidable one. Why?

“We need answers.” He mumbled, after a time sitting in one of the abandoned chambers. SkekHdax was drawing their finger along the wall, vacant eyes closing.

“...One of them.”

One of...?

Ah.

...

SkekOk hadn’t forgotten this special kind of tension, this unease. They hadn’t felt it since the time of the prophecy; when the overhanging threat of the gelfings still existed. The idea of those two ruffians huddling in their very domain was bad enough. But now they had incentive to come against them.

Just boys, the other side of him said, as he lit the candles and adjusted his glasses. Confused children, who would flee rather than fight if they have to, even the savage one.

The teal one worried him more. He wasn’t going to forget the Chamberlain’s actions soon, and the scroll keeper feared they’d all be paying for it...

Something rattled.

SkekOk peered quickly over his shoulder. “...” Nothing. Well, then.

_Whoosh._

A table was overturned, an arm was swooping around his narrow shoulders; a blade sang. An old blade, he recognised it instantly – the mariner’s old dagger, still coated in dust. Clutched in a shaky, soft hand unused to such a weapon.

The golden-rod youth appeared before him, crouched, snarling like a hound. SkekOk’s shriek died in his throat. Behind him, on his tip-toes, was the other boy, holding the blade to his neck. He looked terribly awkward.

“All right.” The youth breathed, sounding as unsettled as the now captive scroll keeper felt, “We’ve – we’re in charge now. You don’t do anything.”

“You make a sound, we kill you.” The beastly one added, sliding back. SkekOk’s hands had frozen in mid-air, he couldn’t get his limbs to move. Slowly, his wits came back to him, and he jabbered before finding his voice.

“...You will be skewered when the others find you.” He said, more aghast than threatening. “You – you must be mad.”

The one called SkekSept slid away, still brandishing the knife, but came to stand in front of him. They barely had a difference in height. SkekOk hadn’t known a Skeksis he could look directly in the eye.

The other one growled, turning to knock over a handle it didn’t like. The blue-green one seemed to be trying to ignore him. The scroll keeper’s eyes narrowed; he saw the jitter in the boy’s finger.

“What do you want from me, child?”

The boy’s face lit up in frustration. “I’m not a child.”

“You are a babe.” The scroll keeper returned flatly, half-turning towards his table again, allowing a light scorn to shadow his unsettled poise. “You’ve barely scraped two decades – we, however have lived longer than you could possibly comprehend.”

“How’s that bad? I don’t deserve to die because you’ve lived longer.” The boy said, something obviously catching in his throat. But he was scowling.

The golden-brown one glared at him sourly from nearby. Did it understand? Who knew.

SkekOk turned his head away, huffing. “You can’t understand. It is a complicated matter.”

“If you think we want anything you have, you’re wrong.” SkekSil said. The scroll keeper didn’t look at him. If he knew, if he understood, he would.

“You will.” He said instead, eyes narrowing again behind his many specs. “When you’re softness of youth sheds, you will change.”

The boy was quiet. His grip on the knife tightened. “And you want to kill me before that happens.”

SkekOk said nothing for a moment. “My personal preference is no matter. Perhaps you would have been useful, if you’d co-operated, child.”

The boy’s feathers bristled at the word. He turned away, however, a hand snaking down his hair – black hair, that had grown from a huddle around his head to his shoulders already. It reminded the elder of SkekSil, or SkekUng, and early memories. He brushed them away, ignoring the boy’s curious, confused look.

“You seal your fate by coming here, child.”

“Who are the whole ones?” The boy asked, again.

SkekOk drummed his fingers along his head, scowling vehemently to himself. It wouldn’t hurt, for them to know. What harm would it...?

...Perhaps it would be harmful.

The bronze once snarled, shattering the silence, and his breath hitched. “The...UrSkeks. Once, thousands of years ago, eighteen in total came to this world from another.”

The duo went still. SkekOk drew back, reverting to his usual lecture mode, one hand risen. “They tried to use the crystal to ‘purify’ themselves, however ideology was flawed and they were split in two.”

“Is that...what...happened to us?” The teal boy asked, his voice quaking. The elder huffed, fiddling with his glasses again. He’d never admit it, but having someone actually listen to his lecture was a welcome change.

“Yes. Though how, we do not know. Why you came, what your past selves were doing. But it matters not.” He said this last line hard and flat, drilling it in. SkekSept blinked. “They are gone, never to be regained. You are here, now, and we must deal with the consequences. We do not know why your previous forms ventured after ours, or if they even knew about their predecessors. It’s all a mystery we’d rather leave alone.”

The boy swallowed, staring at the floor. SkekOk eyed the blind one, trying to formulate a plan. He couldn’t possibly overpower the boy, even if the savage one wasn’t involved...

Said savage one advanced on him, suddenly. He drew back, gritting his beak together.

“SkekHdax,  _don’t_.”

“Scroll Keeper?”

All parties stiffened. The boys gawked at the entrance. SkekOk allowed a half-smirk to appear on his face. The husky voice was SkekShod, obviously.

He turned the corner, appearing in the chamber – and his face went taught with shock. “...!”

The youths froze. SkekSept’s grip on the blade tightened.

“RAAA –“

_“SkekHdax, **No!”**_

The golden youth pounced on the treasurer, knocking him to the floor – and sinking their beak into his shoulder. The horrible screech that came next probably woke the entire castle, and alerted the garthim. SkekSept swept forward, seizing the other youth by the shoulder and yanking them back, “Stop! Stop, leave him –“

SkekOk sank against the table, breathless. Blood. There was blood. None of them had been physically injured in  _decades..._

A loud clicking sound resonated outside the chamber. The boy looked to the scroll keeper, face ashen, and hurtling himself back into the hall, bypassing the garthim waiting just a few yards away. The other youth was on his heel, almost on all fours.

“Run! Come on, just –“

“Treasurer...” SkekOk breathed. Was he dead?

The other gave a raspy breath. Apparently not.


	14. Your Trivial Essence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SkekSept witnesses something horrible in SkekTek's lab.

Seasons didn’t really exist in this region of Thra anymore. Then again, a desert has little much to change about itself. But the sky, many years prior, would shift at least a little in winter. It didn’t now. It was always dark, starless. But a sharp cold was hovering through the halls, the kind that simply refused to let your body settle, to sleep. SkekSept hadn’t known cold like this since – well, never. He understood now, what he was. Half a being made into a new creature, born of some...thing that happened. The more answers he got, the worse he felt. Like each clue was sending him further into a corner.

Since an incident involving several bats landing on their heads during a little meal-time (SkekSept had given in and lit a fire; SkekHdax, his growling companion, didn’t appreciate the cold either,) and their predecessors’ spies had swept upon them like a hurricane. SkekSept had accidently set them on fire, and pretended he’d done it on purpose.

They didn’t risk it after that. SkekSept wondered in the cold and dark for a long while. He began noticing an odd tickle on his shoulders and a weight on his back – nothing bothersome, just...different. When he passed on an old window and the light of the storm outside fluttered in a few times a day, he’d see why. His hair was growing, as was the feather-fur on his back.

SkekHdax’s had, too – their floppy hair fell to their tense shoulders and hid their eyes completely. Now, in the half-light cast by the window, SkekSept could see fresh scrapes littering their rather flat brow. They kept hitting their head on things, no matter how well their hearing was.

His own feet and hands were scraped and bruised, his limbs cold. But nothing, no cold, hunger or injury, could convince him to try an escape route back through the rock barricade – not when he was fully aware of who was waiting behind it...

So they explored. The old chambers, they avoided. SkekSept didn’t tell SkekHdax about the trophies he’d seen on the wall. Though he doubted the other would mind.

A distant rumble echoed outside the castle window, and he stood up. It didn’t do well to stay in one place too long. He ran a hand through his tuggy hair, noting how rougher it felt under darkness and dirt. SkekHdax moved instantly, hearing him easily through the quiet. They didn’t like being still for too long, and would follow wherever he went.

SkekSept moved along, peering around, trying to find something new. But there wasn’t much to be found away from the vague window light.

He moved along, quietly. How far did these corridors go on for? Was that barricade really the only exit?

He ran his hands along the side; both right arms out, feeling the cold, knobbly stone against his skin. The noise was slow and oddly soothing, he could almost feel SkekHdax’s concentration zoning in on him.

He missed UrSaat and his comforting hums. The thought of him made something inside pull, made this odd stability he felt these days shudder. Like he was new again, afraid, trapped in the light. Exposed.

His hand shook and he made to pull it away from the wall, but he leaned against it instead. SkekHdax had moved by, bumping into him, knocking him a bit –

The stone moved under his hand, pushing inward. The noise was like a heavy heartbeat strumming through the rock.

He leaped back. SkekHdax swerved, hissing at it. SkekSept, his heart pounding, realised however that it wasn’t any enemy, or any living thing. The large slab in the wall had moved, like a door on hinge. Just high and broad enough to crawl through.

He gaped at it for a few seconds, then looked at SkekHdax. Neither of them said a word.

It wasn’t logical, to go in there, really. It wasn’t smart to shimmy into an enclosed space in the wall, especially when you were as unarmed and clueless as a baby bird. Best to leave it be, and move on.

...

The shrill little voice that broke the monotone of half-willed screeches and chatters would only last so long. The language was unknown to the occupant of the chamber, and he’d never bothered to learn it.

“Silence, podling!” He rasped.

SkekTek moved across the threshold, dodging by table-tops laden with unsavoury-looking vials. Luckily for the creatures shivering in the cramped cage, standing unwelcome in his lab and looking distinctly out-of-place with the furniture, the skeksis didn’t stop by it. He passed, moving instead to the shelves weighing down the stone walls.

A gnarly but attentive finger ran along the jars, and the scientist continued to mutter under his breath.

The shrill cry belonged to a podling in the cage, one with a shock of blond hair that even now seemed to glint in the dim light, lively and youthful. It was a good thing the scientist paid him no mind – the sight would displease him greatly.

At that moment, another figure came striding in, a slow, stiff walk that half-hid its feebleness with flourish. The Emperor eyed the chamber disdainfully, before focusing his sharp attention on the scientist.

Upon hearing a telltale rasp, the scientist drew away from the wall quick-time, hissing a quick command to a nearby podling slave.

 At that moment, unseen and unheard, a slab in the wall nearby shifted open a crack.

SkekSept felt a thrill of horror dance through his brain. He’d almost forgotten this place, technically the first place he’d registered. Before that, everything had been a blur – the hall he’d been born in, the corridors he’d fled through. This chamber, the dim lights, the hum of heat from the wall in front of the little chairs...

Animals in cages, and against the wall opposite a big, curling cage that he was sure had been there for far longer than he’d ever been alive, past self and present. Something about that round cage in the corner stirred up a horrid sense of foreboding within him, however clean and empty it appeared.

His breath halted when he spotted the Emperor striding in, hands on his stomach, eyes scanning the area. The scientist, with his eye and his hobble, moved towards him, bowing in that odd, vile way.

“Sire, you have come early –“

“Or you are late.” The Emperor replied, snippily. SkekTek said nothing, clearing his throat. The podling was hobbling back with a strange little beaker in hand – though it was empty. SkekSo didn’t look happy.

“Er, I shall have the essence right away sire.” He rasped, showing a grimace that was probably meant to be a smile. SkekSept drew back a little, though the crack in the wall was tiny, as the scientist drew near to the lever just yards away.

A shudder of stone, and the wall opened. Heat swarmed into the chilly chamber. The animals chattering fretfully.

SkekTek advanced on the cage standing a little ways from the one he’d kept SkekSept and UrSaat in before, and the former felt another pang of horror when he realised what was in it. Podlings. Funny, cuddly little podlings, who had given them food, their new clothes. He almost retched.

SkekTek reached in and plucked one out, and he started protesting wildly, wriggling about. SkekSept pressed on the stone slab but it would open for further. It strained the bones in his fingers just to try.

Heart hammering, all he could do was watch.

SkekTek was binding the little creature into one of the small, crooked chairs. The podling fought all the while, its helplessness awfully familiar. The Emperor watched the display with impatience and indifference. SkekSept’s fingers dug into the stone.

“Pull the lever!”

The shrivelled podling near the wall, who the youth hadn’t even noticed, reached for the lever. SkekSept’s skin crawled so violently, he almost thought that insects were running beneath his muscles –

The shaft opened.

Heat. So much heat. It made his eyes water. The boy watched, frozen, as something came streaming out, a line of light through the air. Purple light.

With every heartbeat, the images and half-memories thrummed.

_Burning, burning, blocking the fear, trying to ignore it, no, it was too much, too much, conflict, where was –_

His mind, then, went horribly blank.

“Ah,” The scientist was speaking, leaning in, he’d moved to the podling’s side. “Now, the crystal will drain you of your thoughts, your fears –“

The podling’s face was blanching, eyes wide and reflecting purple. It had gone stiff as a corpse yet ragged breaths still laboured from its chest. They didn’t look away – why didn’t they look away?!

“Your vital  _essence.”_

SkekSept curled in on himself, vaguely aware of some dripping sound...his eyes centred in on the tubes around the chair, looping vein-like into a vial. Something was in there. Where was it coming from?

The podling’s hair was changing. Going stark white, face gaunt, growing old and frail but his eyes remained wide, wide open. Unable to look away, just like SkekSept. Some unseen force had taken them both. SkekTek made a satisfied noise, like a grunt, and barked out a short order to the other podling by the shaft.

Said shaft was closing. All at once, SkekSept felt his breath return, and the feeling in his body. Like awaking from a nightmare.

SkekTek held the vial up into the semi-light, and it glinted ominously. The Emperor shuffled forward, lean head raised, eyes narrowed.

The scientist, with a half-bow, offered the vial to him. The podling lay in the chair, stiff and forgotten.

SkekSept stared. What were they going to do with it? What  _was_ that stuff they’d taken?!

We could take his essence, the scientist had said.

Essence...

A terrifyingly morbid puzzle appeared in the youth’s head as he watched the Emperor peer critically at the vial. The pieces drew nearer as he lifted it.

And drank it.

He stared.

The silvery liquid vanished down his throat with a sharp gulp. A few seconds passed; the scientist was watching the Emperor with what seemed to be baited breath, monocle glinted viciously in the dank glow.

It was barely a difference, but SkekSept had been staring until his eyes stung. The muscles on the Emperor’s face seemed to even, something about his poise relax. His gnarly fingers didn’t seem so discoloured.

Confusion swelled, then disappeared. Bile rose in SkekSept’s throat. He shuffled back, finding his body was moving almost by its own accord. Back through the tunnel, run, run, get as far away as possible –  
The podling, it was -

_He could be useful, his essence –_

SkekSept didn’t cry out until he was sure he was far away enough.


	15. Their Treasure, Our Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second confrontation.

Drat it.

A month and a half. A month and a half. Those little toe-rags had been trapped in there for weeks and they were still alive.

SkekUng let out a low growl, a pronounced noise that startled several escaped crawlies back into their holes. The dinner table had been cleared, dessert was on the horizon, and yet none said a word.

They eyed each other across the table-top. SkekEkt and SkekAyuk glanced at SkekShod now and again with pointed looks; SkekOk’s eyes flickered to SkekTek.

SkekSil, of course, was smiling. But there was something decidedly sharp and ugly about his grin, and his eyes were a little more narrow than usual. His usual mock serenity was being poisoned by some inward loathing.

As much as they all equally loathed the waif (two waifs, they had to keep reminding themselves – that insane blind wretch wasn’t the little teal youth’s pet after all,) it provided an opportunity for a little glory, an unspoken contest.

“How is your beak, my lord Chamberlain?”

“Hmm. Dapper, Ornamentalist.”

That whimpering worm never usually forgets his injuries as easily, SkekUng growled inwardly.

“I take it,” Emperor SkekSo began, making all of them go stiff as corpses caught in a snowstorm, “That the barricade is almost inept?”

“The garthim are clearing away the rocks as we speak.” The general drawled, slowly, his fingers curling ever-so-slightly into a fist. “We will have them soon.”

“If they are alive, then they’ve been sneaking out for food some other way.” SkekSo said, giving no indication at all that he’d found this information satisfactory. He was, not for the first time, lamenting the fact that the Spy-Master had died, and that the architect was gone. He’d held none of them in high esteem, but at least they’d have some idea of how the whelps were sneaking around.

SkekSo turned his head. No matter. They had larger things to preoccupy themselves with, tomorrow.

...

They were going in circles.

Once again, SkekSept found himself staring up at the wall of trophies belonging to a predecessor he didn’t know. Wringing his hands, he found his unease of the sight hadn’t simmered down over time. SkekHdax had been bashing into things more than usual, and their hair was looking far more ragged than before. The pains in SkekSept’s abdomen were growing worse day to day.

The little food he’d dared to snatch from the podlings in the halls wasn’t enough. The hunger made him feel jumpy, and SkekHdax droopy. A bruise was swelling on an ever-frowning brow.

“Here again.” SkekSept muttered, sinking down near the stone formation that had once been a bed.

SkekHdax said nothing. Oh well, they weren’t exactly pleasant conversation. SkekSept eyed the trophies, eyes trailing through the beaky skulls...until they landed on something else, something sitting dead-centre in the display. Like it wanted to be found. Slowly, with quivering hands, he reached out.

It wasn’t made of bone. SkekSept wondered how he recognised such a texture at all, but like many other questions, he was sure as sunlight that he wouldn’t get an answer.

It was some kind of...head-thin. A headdress in the shape of a skull, he knew the word, what was it...?

Mask. It was a mask.

“SkekHdax.”

The golden-haired youth turned their head towards them with a reproachful whip. SkekSept drew near to them, hoping they wouldn’t take his fingers. That wouldn’t be nice. “This might help your head, keep it safe. Stay still.”

He knew SkekHdax hated being touched, contrary to UrSaat. A pang of pain rippled through the youth at even thinking his name, but he swallowed it. He lifted the mask over the other young skeksis’s head and slowly slipped it on, brushing away the strands of hair so they wouldn’t irritate. The other sneered, but didn’t try to remove his hands from his wrists.

SkekSept stepped back and smiled, admiring his handiwork. “O-okay...I think...I think it’s time we do what we discussed.”

The unseeing eyes of his companion reflected what little light there was in a distinctly eerie way. “Yes. I know the sounds here. Time to hear  _them_ again.”

SkekSept nodded, and with arms that only shook a little, he turned and lifted a pointy stick-thing from the ornamental wall. It felt cold and heavy in his hands. He remembered the weight of a sword, the fear of the fight. He gulped, the noise audible.

This time, he wouldn’t be cornered.

He lowered his arms.

He missed UrSaat so, so badly.

Then, a noise. A loud, potent thud that resonated through the hall. SkekSept didn’t jump, no, he froze like a bird spotted by a predator. SkekHdax’s head turned towards it almost before it even happened, their teeth glinting in the dark.

The two inched to the chamber archway, and peered out. Meters down the corridor lay the barricade; a mountain of slabs blocking the way. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, with a thunderous crash, a slab was thrown away from the wall of debris with the force of an arrow. The sound of rock splitting in two was deafening. SkekSept’s jaw fell open and SkekHdax let out a yowl of protest.

A hole sat directly in the middle of the barricade, and two purple orbs gleamed viciously through the dark.

SkekSept stumbled back, turned, and sprinted, “Come on!”

The rest of the barricade came down seconds later with a crash. The pitter-patter sound of the Garthim came in its wake and SkekSept felt his heart leap, oh gods, he thought he was ready, but that noise, the noise –

Think, think, think of how to escape this –

It came to him.

“This way!”

The two of them tore into another hall just as the Garthim made it through the first. SkekSept slammed his hands along the walls, searching for that sneaky little compartment some prankster architect had probably found amusing. Then, he found it – a slab of rock that pushed into the wall.

“Follow me!”

He scrambled inside, ignoring the soreness of the hard stone on his elbows, and SkekHdax followed suit, tail whipping violently behind them.

The spear was difficult to drag through, SkekSept could assert.

The trek through the tunnel felt horribly tight and in the pitch dark, SkekSept kicked himself mentally for not allowing the person used to not being able to see take the lead. The person who was also wearing protective head gear to protect them from –

SkekSept his forehead on the secret door on the other side of the tunnel, and almost bit his tongue. Drat it. He shoved his full weight onto the large brick wall and it slid open. The noise was loud and he begged whatever higher power that could be listening for the scientist not to be there.

...And he wasn’t. Just cages, and a bunch of bleary-eyed slaves that watched the two climb out of the wall with  _very_  mild surprise.

SkekSept peered at them awkwardly. “Um. Sh.” He raised a finger to his beak and pushed the slab back in place. It was quiet. Very quiet.

There wasn’t time. SkekSept took the lead, slightly dazed by the light – it wasn’t bright by any standards, but it was an improvement from before. SkekSept looked over his shoulder and almost jumped at how ragged SkekHdax looked, their hair past their shoulders and their beak smeared with ash.

He supposed he didn’t look much neater.

Through the corridor. Darting between pillars. They hadn’t been found yet, it was so quiet...and now that he thought about it, there was an odd buzzing in his blood...getting stronger.

The moment he noticed, it pulsed. Something pulling him. SkekHdax had sensed it too, both of them had. It drew them down the next hall, towards an opening. Steam was rising past it. SkekSept’s mind felt...strangely light.

He walked. That was fine, wasn’t it? Just follow the feeling, to the steam, purple hues on the walls.

Purple.

He blinked.

SkekSept broke out of the haze. With a jolt, he saw that he was back in that place – the one overlooking the pit, one of the two balconies hanging over the chamber.

And...the Crystal, suspended in the air just a few meters away from him.

...I was born here, he realised with slight nausea. SkekHdax had snapped out of whatever spell the crystal had plain upon them, for it had to be to blame – SkekSept felt a strange, foreboding anger rile up inside him at the sight of it...but what...?

His head drooped.

He almost screamed.

Below, surrounding the crystal in a perfect circle, were the skeksis. All of them.

He dropped to his knees very, very slowly, SkekHdax following.

They were...standing still, staring at the Crystal. Just staring. They could have been statues, they were so still. He wanted to whisper to SkekHdax, to note just how bizarre this was, when –

With a sharp ring, rays of purple split from the crystal, right into their eyes. The boy had to swallow his gasp.

He watched, transfixed, as they stared unrelentingly into the light, that horrible ringing sound unrelenting.

Then, it all stopped. Like a light being lit, they all shifted, broke from their stillness. The Ornamentalist smoothed back his feather headdress.

And there, beside him, was SkekSil.

The youth felt his fingers curl.

At that moment, apparently bored of kneeling for no reason they could hear, SkekHdax turned and shuffled back the way they came.

A small rock slipped from the overhang with a clatter.

SkekSept’s heart stopped.

...

It had been a relatively tedious and normal ceremony. SkekSil slid a finger along his eyes to clear the blurriness, humming idly. Ah, yes. Always a bit twitchy after a regeneration process.

His gaze fell on SkekEkt and SkekUng, closest to him. The former straightening that silly headdress of his. He was about to make some well-hidden spiteful remark when a loud clatter caught his attention.

Had someone fallen? How hilar-

The Chamberlain just so happened to glance upwards in a humorous eye-roll. A small, breathless exclamation slipped from his beak, but in the momentary silence after the ceremony, it might as well be a gong strike.

All heads turned. The boy – loathsome, trembling little  _SkekSept_  – was standing on the overhang above, to the left of the Crystal. Upon being spotted he straightened up, his face stricken. He looked different, perhaps an inch taller, with his mane growing in and his hair all a tangle. The softness was still there, but there was an edge to it.

SkekUng gave an wordless bark of fury; SkekEkt, of course, gave a shrill cry. Exclamations and rumbles sprang into the air as the skeksis noticed him one by one.

“The waif!”

“Snooping little wretch!”

“ _Get him!”_

SkekSept’s hands curled in horror, and SkekSil allowed a flurry of spite to pass through him. His shock melted into something else and he smirked plainly up at the youth, waiting for the gazes to meet.

They did.

He saw the youth’s eyes bulge.

Then, something soared overhead. The general had hoisted his sceptre over his shoulder and thrown the thing violently at the youth, no doubt hoping he could knock him clean off the overhang. But then –

The bronze-gold youth stepped forward, into view, inciting another round of startled, furious yells.

_“Kill them –“_

“Trespassers –“

The cane struck the gold youth’s shoulder. The skeksis below went silent as they swayed, their balance wavering – and they tumbled off the side. SkekSil’s smile broadened. What a shame...

The wretch landed with a crash. And oh, had it sounded painful. Pity. He hoped the UrRu noticed.

SkekSept dropped to his knees, one arm reaching desperately, his voice cracking as he called.  _“No!”_

The skeksis had, unconsciously, surrounded the golden youth, yet still kept their distance, loathing and fright twisting their already less-than pretty faces. But then SkekUng stormed forward, gnarly fingers flexing with murderous intent.

“Leave him to me! The little beast is mine!”

No one had argued to begin with, but, SkekSil chose not to voice this.

“Be quick about it.” The Emperor seethed. The golden one wasn’t moving.

Then, something teal and scrawny came plummeting down onto SkekUng’s back, hollering loud enough for the dead to hear. The others drew back as if burnt, eyes wide.

SkekSept raised his elbow and brought it down with a crack on top of the General’s head. “ _Don’t you touch them!”_

The General snarled, hands grasping at the air as he tried to fling the youth off his back. He snagged the boy’s jerkin and flung him downwards, so he was sprawled out on the floor beside his companion.

But he didn’t stay down. He hopped up as the others closed in, sneering violently. SkekSil meandered through the group, smiling smoothly through it all.

The boy was focusing on SkekUng, stepped back so he was standing directly over his companion. The Chamberlain reached out and grasped the boy’s dark hair and tugged on it violently.

“AH –“

“Come, come, this way it’ll be easy!” He crooned as the youth pried at his fingers, “If you fight, your friend will die!”

Around, jeers lit up. SkekOk’s voice, SkekShod, the rest.

“Kill him, Lord Chamberlain!”

“Chamberlain –“

The boy turned on his heel and lunged at SkekSil, fingers scrabbling at his eyes. But despite his stiff joints, SkekSil was stronger – he flung him back, letting him stumble, twisting the youth’s arm in the process.

SkekSept fell backwards with a strangled yelp –

And was then caught in one of the pairs of arms belonging to the other one. The golden youth was on their feet again, and it was only then that all of them noticed. It gave the entire group, even SkekSo, who had been ‘presiding’ over the assault, pause.

That mask, they had not seen it for a very long time.

They did not like being reminded of the past.

But all of that loathsome memory was washed away from their minds, as the teal boy – SkekSept, flung all of his arms around the golden one’s torso and clung to them. They clearly didn't appreciate the contact but allowed it. And, strangely, one of the other’s arms encircled him, however reluctantly. 

SkekEkt made a very, very scandalised noise. The rest looked just as affronted at the display. It was just that - abhorrent, and SkekSo in particular had lost whatever incentive he may have had left in letting the two live.

“We leave, or one of you dies with me.” The other one said, as if this was completely written in stone and left no room for argument. SkekSil scowled, but kept his smile firmly in place...though really, what good was it, if the brat couldn’t see it?

“I will be sure to weep over your ashes, my beastly friend.”

The golden youth’s voice bubbled in their throat.

It took a moment for the furious, startled group to realise what they had said.

_“SkekHdax.”_

_..._

The chamber stank of burnt rock and ash. From the shaft over which the Crystal hung, foul vapour was rising. It was enough to make inexperienced eyes sting and lungs closed up in protest, and if the youngest occupants of the place had their way, they’d never have to see this chamber again. Metaphorically speaking.

On one side, poised in an eerily recurring semi-circle around them, with the aforementioned death shaft acting as their other blockade, were the elder skeksis, with the Emperor and the General at the foreground. The Chamberlain had slunk into view from behind them, mewling lowly under his breath. Between the steaming drop and the seething elders were SkekHdax and SkekSept, utterly cornered.

SkekSept found himself standing one step further away than his lighter-coloured companion, his fingers digging into his other arm in unconscious fright. The elders all seemed to act like a single entity when they gathered, leaning back slightly in reproachful hatred. Two of them – the one clad in the eye-patch and the tall, pale-eyed one with the regal voice, were sharing a glance before eyeing them both again with growing disdain.

“Enough.”

SkekUng stalked forward, one step, three – SkekSept backed up, feeling the heat of the shaft on his back, and seeing SkekSil smiling sharply in the blurry background.

_“A challenge.”_

Everyone paused. Even SkekSept, and the crystal itself, seemed to grow ever more silent. SkekHadax had leaned forward a tad, increasing their stooped posture just a bit more. His teeth were bore in a faint snarl. The momentary confusion that rippled through the elder’s faces gave way to suspicion, and even interest – unwilling interest.

SkekUng turned his head very, very slowly. SkekHdax, hearing no interruption, went on.

“Trial by stone.”

The elders went still, and SkekSept had but a moment to ponder – what was Trial By Stone?

A soft murmur broke through the crowd, but the Emperor’s eyes simply narrowed. Then, after a second’s added pause –

“Trial by stone.” He echoed, flatly. SkekSept heard the air itself explode, tension flying in every direction in the wake of something –  _else._

SkekUng pivoted his bulky body around, his arm thrusting up into the air as he faced his fellows.  _“Trial by stone!”_

 _“Trial_  by stone!” The ornamentalist and gourmand cried, their voices shrill, their arms in the air. SkekSept balked, looking between them all in confusion, before his gaze fell on the Chamberlain by pure chance. The elder skeksis was smirking pointedly at him, as if to say something, his smile closed and eyes barely open slits.

The party moved – and SkekHdax followed, stalking along beside SkekUng towards the corridor. SkekSept remained where he was, staring in growing fright, all his earlier bravado bleeding away. What was going  _on?_

He was swept up by the moving bodies – SkekSept swallowed a bark of disgust as he felt clammy hands grasp his shoulders, his arm and the end of his jerkin and pull him along. SkekSil had appeared with him, and SkekEkt and SkekAyuk on either side, their faces alight with excitement and a frightening relish. SkekSept grimaced as he was led along by the trio through the darkened corridor, clueless to how or why he was still alive.

“What’s happening?” He managed, finally, when they reached the throne room in what seemed like a moment. All around him the cries continued, and upon entering he saw two lines of the little squishy beings, their arms and legs chained, their shallow skin straining as they pulled on ropes from either side.

Something was rising out of the ground as the Emperor took his seat.

_“Trial by stone!”_

The ‘thing’ was an elongated stone, with vicious, flesh-like scars sunk into its middle. Crossed over it like a pair of limbs were two oh-so familiar swords. Golden ornament, adorned with jewels. SkekSept remembered it all too well. It dawned on him then, finally, and horror shook him to the core and stole his breath. He was pulled into the front of the crowd, SkekSil still holding him fast. He struggle half-heartedly to make the others let go, but he didn’t. Did they have to be so grabby? He wasn't a cat!

“Be still, my child.” The Chamberlain crooned, petting his head in an infuriatingly patronizing manner, as SkekEkt cackled (and SkekAyuk huffed out his laughter) beside them. “Enjoy the  _show_.”

He felt something pinch his cheek and he held down a yelp, jerking his face away from SkekEkt. “It will be  _invigorating,_ young thing.”

He  _hated_ them all.

SkekUng and SkekHdax stood on either side of the newly risen stone. SkekHdax had been shoved curtly into place by SkekTek, who hissed venomously at the youth before taking his place at the Emperor’s side.

SkekHdax had taken off the mask at some point during the walk, and SkekSept had no idea why. He’d tucked it under his arm, standing straighter than usual, but still lax. His pale, unfocused eyes seemed to drill into the wall behind SkekUng through his grimy bangs. This was madness, SkekSept thought. He was stronger than himself, but no one could match the General!

SkekUng grasped the sword. SkekHdax leant forward and padded their hands along the sword, seizing hold of the cold metal himself. They hefted their blades up, both of them letting out a drawn-out roar – SkekUng loud and boisterous, SkekHdax low and growling.

SkekSept stared mutely. How did SkekHdax know  _how_  to do it? What to do?

The skeksis watched, silent, as SkekUng swung his sword. SkekHdax must have heard the blade move through the air, or the shift in the thick cloth of the General’s arms, for he brought his own sword forward with equal quickness.

_CLANG._

At that moment, all thought of quiet observation went out the window. The crowd began chattering and leering the moment the swords came apart.

“Give it a good  _hit,_  General!”

“General!”

...

The elders were loud. SkekHdax placed the mask back on their head, and the skeksis grumbled. They didn’t know it, but the elders  _knew_  that mask, they knew that stance of a quiet fighter. They adjusted the sword into both hands and slunk to the left. He heard the General snarl, loud and imposing.

He heard the loud one strike the rock first, and jeers rise up from every part of the room. Their voices hit off every surface, every crevice.

He knew where  _each of them where._

...

SkekSept shook his head soundlessly. “Wh...what are they doing?”

“Trial by stone.” To the boy’s great surprise, it was SkekOk who spoke, eyeing his sideways like a disdainful school teacher dealing with a brainless toddler. Which was irritating, as SkekSept was sure he was  _physically_  past 'childhood' by far. “The most defining challenge between two skeksis. You strike the stone. Observe.” He nodded forward, and SkekSept found himself staring unhappily at the scene, unable to stop himself. “He who strikes the deepest blow wins.”

“And if you lose?” SkekSept murmured, his voice straining. A triumphant, but subdued look appeared on the scroll-keeper’s maw.

“Hmmm.”

SkekSept turned his head, and shivered. SkekSil’s look wasn’t just poison – it was, in a childish term, evil. Something far deeper that bitterness had come to the elder then, and he wrapped an arm around his shoulders almost gently, though his expression was anything but. SkekSept cringed.

“Banishment. Mmm. Perhaps even  _death_ , in this case.” He was eyeing SkekHdax now, with utter loathing.

 _I’d trusted you, once._ SkekSept glared at him and pulled himself away with a sharp tug.

“D-don’t be so certain,  _Chamberlain.”_  He returned.

SkekHdax lifted the sword, their brow furrowing. The crowd’s chattering paused for a moment as he pulled his arms back, hair falling in front of his mask.

He lunged at the stone himself, bringing down the blade on it with a hiss.

The sound made SkekSept’s ears ring in pain. Sparks flew off its surface. Angry mutters came in their wake – SkekHdax had landed a favourable hit, and the elders didn’t like it. The Emperor’s face wrinkled, disgruntled. The Ritual Master quirked a brow.

Needless to say, SkekUng wasn’t happy. He brought his sword back, glowering into the younger’s face. “Filthy little  _weevil.”_

He swung his blade the second time – almost burying his sword into the rock’s centre. SkekSept jumped as excited cheers rose up around him, and he cringed again. SkekHdax remained perfectly composed, growling inwardly.

They heard everything. The next blow, the cheers, the  _bet_ being placed by that one with the crusty voice.

He heard SkekSept’s shaky sigh as their slunk to the left, shifting their grip on the blade.

“Get _on_  with it, brat!”

SkekHdax’s lifted their sword.

Silence again. He waited, he listened.

And he heard the Emperor’s contemptuous huff.


	16. Meanwhile, In A Dream Of Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see what the UrRu are up to.

Soft sunlight was sliding through the valley trees. A low breeze ran through the grass and heather dotting the hills. The three suns stood in a spacious circle, burning red, yellow and orange in the early morn. The warmth they shared was shallow, but comforting on the skin. Below, in the valley, it was hard to tell that there was any movement at all. It was like watching life in slow motion.

A long, thick hand, wrinkle and rough like leather, stretched out over a display made of coloured powder. Red, cream and beige spiralling out, dotted with stones to mark the planets. Quietly, the hand nudged one of the stones to the right. There. It was in place now.

With equal slowness, and a shake to his arms, the UrRu reached into his pocket and pulled out some ash. He tossed it over the diagram on the floor, and listened.

He ran his hand along the patterns on his shawl, the knots tied to signify his own thoughts. By chance, his heavy head had been turned to the small slope in which the valley could be accessed. Certain...gelfing used that way to come and go from their hollow. It joined this place of little huts and bridges to the glens and the streams, were more colourful plants lay.

Someone new had come into the midst, someone of interest. It wasn’t usual for all of them to direct their attention to one thing at the same time anymore.

A figure was ambling into the hollow, standing far straighter than any of them had in centuries. By the musical instruments, where he was stringing a quiet ,plucky tune, UrSol the Chanter lifted his read to look. The movement almost dislodged the loose bun of his hair. UrZah, still sat beside his coloured sands, simply watched as the guest wandered in.

Lanky but small by their standards, clad in a plain robe that let his four arms hand freely. His main was coppery and rather dark, though his eyes were distinctly pale and far more alert than any of theirs.

From upon on the galleries, their walking staffs in hand, the Cook and Herbalist had come to observe.

UrSol continued to pluck at the strings on his instrument, but kept his head politely directed at the youth.

The youth, meanwhile, was feeling very out of place. It wasn’t exactly awkward, in fact with the quiet serenity and gentle music, and the warm glow of the sun, it felt impossible to feel that way. It was dream-like and calm and he rather felt like taking a nap. But...wasn’t there something he was supposed to do.

He stood there for a long while, and they all stared at each other. Heads turned left and right, as if acknowledgement had to be passed from one to the other several times before it was done.

Quietly, his legs still quivering, UrOnze moved towards the one designing the colourful sands. His four arms came together and he leant down in what he hoped was a respectful gesture. He made no sound however; he didn’t feel he needed to.

UrZah the Ritual Guardian gestured very slowly to his side, offering for him to sit down. By this point, the new UrRu could see more. Of them, he reminded himself rather blearily. Yes, he knew they were all the same, but the name of the race – his race? - escaped him. How odd it was, to be sure of where he was going, but unsure of anything beyond that. Oh well.

He sat down, half-curious, beside UrZah.

The others were hobbling out of their huts and onto bridges, their weary eyes peering down at him. No malice, of course. One was carrying a funny contraption made out of horizontal string, with beads on them. Perhaps for counting something, though what he couldn’t fathom.

Gradually, all of the UrRy appeared in the centre of the valley, the page of soft soil below the bridges, wooden huts and galleries.

Then, at last, UrSu the Master approached. He, out of all of them, had the whitest hair, the palest rune-written skin. Through still quite large and nowhere near thin ‘scrawny’, he was the thinnest of the lot.

The newcomer waited patiently, as he had throughout his whole, almost silent journey. He had no met anyone else of sentience until now, and though the nebri were nice company, they didn’t speak back. He tilted his head as UrSu came to sit beside him, placing the youthful UrRu between himself and the Ritual Guardian. He took his time in placing his walking staff down and nodding to his old friend.

UrOnze, the newcomer, looked between them both.

“We knew...”

The Master’s voice was husky, oh-so quiet. UrOnze cocked his head further to one side, watching. The old mystic let his hand hover over the Ritual Guardian’s display of sands, his eyes seemingly barely open. “That you...would come. We felt you come...into being...”

The two that had been wandering around up on the galleries had joined the group. One was carrying a wooden platter with several odd-looking dishes on it. Like rice and a kind of stew dotted with herb. UrOnze found it being handed to him, and when he took it he found the wood was warm all the way through, the scent odd but not unpleasant.

He nibble quietly at the food without much hesitation. He did not feel afraid here. He’d felt apprehension, out in the dark, though really he was new to all of these emotions. He was more curious than anything.

He thanked the Cook, who dipped his head in a nod. UrNol, who was the herbalist (and a friend of the former), lifted a hand in acknowledgement.

UrOnze supposed he added the herbs. They tingled slightly on the tongue.

The Chanter was the only one who hadn’t joined the group, but he was still nearby. He was no longer plucking. He hand his hands up and along the string, and a soft, chiming noise intercepted the rippling melody. It was beautiful, and if UrOnze cared to remember...familiar.

Hmm.

“I felt... something call me here.” He murmured, his voice rather low – like a boy’s whose had recently cracked. Thick, mumbling and plain. “But I was not alone. I was not to come here alone, I do not think.”

The Master made a small gesture.

One of the others, one with a scarf-like garment wrapped around his head just before the eyes, held out a bowl of water to the Master. There didn’t seem to be much eye-contact going on, but he’d interpreted what had to be done all the same.

The Master set the bowl away from UrZah’s pretty display, as the others gathered closer to watch. UrOnze leaned in as he rose his hands, all four, over the water. Their reflections appeared dark and still within it.

Something rose up, and took form from the liquid like quickly forming ice. Something in the back of UrOnze’s mind said that he ought to be more surprised by this, but it was brief.

The figure that had appeared from the water was a crystal. A very familiar crystal. One with a blazingly notable chip on one side. “The crystal...” The Master began, “Split apart your UrSkek form. Two...made four.”

“...Why didn’t the other come?” That, of all things, confused UrOnze. His brow furrowed gradually, but it wasn’t enough to be a frown.

The small model of the Crystal changed. Now it was another familiar thing. A sharp, jagged and uneven formation – the Castle. The Master withdrew his hand, eyes sliding back and further tiredly below his heavy lids. “The skeksis...have taken them. Augrah has said it so.”

The Chanter’s melody paused.

“How do you know?” UrOnze inquired.

It was UrZah that spoke, then. “We have felt it. The ties...between them and we...are thin after so many a trine. But it remains.”

“It remains.” The alchemist agreed, shuffling up beside the three and joining their designating ‘sitting line’. UrOnze’s brow lifted up past his hair when he saw the wooden limbs hanging from his sides, and the heavy clunk they made with every movement.

“Rest for the night.” The Master was saying, distracting UrOnze again. “Today, we must think.”

...

UrUtt the Weaver gave him clothes. Warm, red-brown garments. Plain, for his memories, his thoughts, were barely enough to fill the fabric. The Mystics, as the natives of Thra called them, wrote their history on the very clothes they wore. And UrOnze, as he’d told them his name was, was new.

But he’d requested a rather different garment, politely of course. Unlike the UrRu, or even the Skeksis, he wished to wear britches. It was easier to move.

Spiralling sleeves of red hung by his wrists now, cutting off the chill of the night wind. He curled a finger quietly through a bang of his hair to make it coil as he thought.

It was then that he saw something rush into view through the heather, pulling its clothes around its narrow shoulders with such a quickness he hadn’t seen in this valley so far. The figure was small, standing completely straight, and as it lifted its head to stare up at the setting sun he saw a head full of dark hair streaked with blue, a protruding face and soft, gentle eyes alight with alertness. No. It was definitely not an UrRu. Or a nebri.

Their eyes met, and the odd little creature’s jaw hung open in surprise.

...

“What were they like?”

Jen’s voice was supple and quiet, but with a passion behind it. A liveliness that didn’t exist in his UrRu peers. They sat inside, around the embers of a fire. Jen’s dinner lay half-eaten. Apparently he wasn’t that fond of Mystic Food.

“My encounter was brief.” UrOnze replied, subdued. “But they were loud. Hasty.” Sharp. Dark. “Furious, I think. Afraid.”

“Afraid?” Jen’s voice raised an incredulous octave. “How can they be afraid?”

“From what your Master said,” UrOnze continued, his eyes on the embers, “They always are.”

...

It took a while for UrOnze to realise that Jen was very glad to have someone to talk to. He learned from all of the ‘Mystics’ as he put it, but he’d relented that there ‘wasn’t anyone like me’.

UrOnze was not like him. He had never known ‘childhood’. Or true innocence. But it was close enough. Jen was rather happy to be the teacher for once, telling UrOnze what ‘this was’ and what ‘that was’. He’d craved difference, a change in pace.

They sat on sun-kissed rocks as Jen happily monologue on about writing, and space, and numbers. UrOnze knew what writing was (half-remembered things and patterns in his mind) but Thra writing was entirely different.

He was amused when Jen’s nose would wrinkle during meals, and how the Cook seemed oblivious to it despite handing the gelfling his every meal, every day of his life. And Jen’s snarky quips that seemed to catch even himself off guard.

What scared the skeksis so, he’d ask, or something similar. Bad clothing?

He hadn’t intended to be sarcastic, but UrOnze had laughed all the same. The days passed in a blur.

...

“So there were two of you? Well – where did the other one go?”

UrOnze, who was learning how to weave intricate knots from UrUtt alongside the gelfling, paused. His brow furrowed. “I do not know. He is...still with them. The new skeksis, at least.”

“Will they just be like the others?” There was no accusation in the gelfling’s question. UrUtt was one the one who answered, speaking without halting his work. His fingers twisted the red thread back and forth as he murmured:

“Once, the skeksis were not so blind. Their bodies, not so frail, and their minds, though flawed...not so dark. Never pure, but...once they were content. And, perhaps, well meaning. In their own way.”

He left the two youths to wonder how that was and why it changed.

...

Sometimes, during lessons when his mind wandered, he’d feel odd little sensations. Little feelings, barely there. It had happened before out in the forests. The only time in his existence when he’d known ‘panic’.

He was sure, once he learned the truth of his nature, that at that tense moment when his chest had gone tight and the darkness closed in on him, that his other self had been about to die.

...

Oddly enough, it was the Chanter that UrOnze had trouble approaching. He learned cooking, weaving, how to position the stars and read them correctly, and as the weeks pressed on he’d hear the music chiming blearily through the air, but never approach. Gen knew music, but that seemed to come after all the more academic, earthy lessons.

Jen’s pipe was gentle, but there was sadness to it.

One day, when sunset was falling and the UrRu were mulling around, UrOnze wandered towards the Chanter.

He felt something in his gut. Something that seemed far away, out of body, and therefore not really his to feel. He tried to disregard it as he came to the Chanter’s side. His coat was green, oddly enough.

“Hello.” UrOnze murmured.

“Greetings.” UrSol paused his song, turning his head towards him. His long tail slid to one side as UrOnze sat down beside him, pulling his knees up to his chest. His voice, compared to his singing – which UrOnze had heard – was lighter and smoother.

UrSol slowly lifted his hand to gesture to his instrument. “Do you wish...to learn?”

Almost, almost hesitantly, the young UrRu reached out and brushed his fingertip along one of the strings. “...the music. It almost feels...familiar. Yet I could not have heard it before.”

“Music...” UrSol said, “Is the most fleeting creation. But... it holds a power that all beings, mortal and above, know.”

Even the UrSkeks were prone to the lull of music, after all.

“You would know it...even before your form split.” The Chanter told him quietly. UrOnze found his head falling. The coiling bang at the side of his eye fell past his vision.

“I want to learn.”

“...You shall.”

...

UrOnze awoke one morning to pain. Confusion, the sensation of having lost control of his body for a moment. Something was trickling down his neck, through his hair, and as his shaky breaths filled the room, he lay on his bed in half-consciousness until Gen came running.

He’d heard the young gelfling’s startled calls, then nothing.

It was the Alchemist, with his wooden limbs and steady hands, that patched up the wound. Gen had been confused as to how it had just appeared with no attacker in sight, that it there had been no weapon dealt to the young UrRu.

“I don’t understand.” He said, again.

UrOnze had tripped and stumbled before. But he’d never experienced true pain. He felt numb, sitting there with the bandages around his head, wondering if his counterpart felt strange stabs of emotion now and again.

However, his own feelings were subdued. So he didn’t wager much on it.

After assuring Jen he was fine, he wandered outside. He stared at the stars, and waited. He wasn’t sure what for, though.

...

The next morning, he awoke to find the UrRu – even the Chanter – gathered outside in the summit of the valley, in the centre of the hollow again. It had been months since their first meeting, then. UrOnze and Gen strode into the middle of the throng, where the Master and the Ritual Guardian were waiting.

“...Augrah...has sent word.” The Master said after a prolonged moment.

“Augrah?” UrOnze echoed.

One of the others lifted his hand, positioning it into a lifted finger stiffly. “She is the watcher of the heavens.”

“The keeper of secrets.” The Chanter added.

“She will help you.”

UrOnze and Jen shared a look. “...Help us do what?”

“Not you, gelfling.” The Master returned, with a heavy shake of his head. “It is the newcomer, who must go.”

“Something has changed, hasn’t it?” UrOnze looked between them all. They made no move to deny it. “It’s the other one – the other UrRu. I have... to find him.”

“...Why?” Jen asked. But he the Master hummed throatily, closing his eyes.

“What will be...will be. You came into this world...with a separate purpose, my young friend.”

UrOnze did not reply.

“...The skeksis will fear the change, the implication. Your companion...who came to this world with you...will not be able to join us, unless you go.”

So they would not stop the skeksis. He’d merely lead him back. He wasn’t angry, or surprised. UrOnze got to his feet, nodding once to them all.

“I see.”

Jen opened his mouth, perhaps opting to argue. But he thought better of it. “You'll come back?” His voice lifted on the last syllable, hopeful. “Yes?”

UrOnze smiled. “You...need not worry.”

...

Halfway up the slope, when their figures seemed very small and distant, the UrRu simultaneously turned their heads to watch him go.

UrOnze heard the Chanter’s music, soft and chiming. He paused to stare back them, at Jen, who stood at the doorway of his hut. He raised a hand in farewell before turning away.

And into the world he went, where the thick forest lay to welcome him back.

...

Breathe.

Footsteps, crunching along a scraggly path. Dryness in the throat, the tongue. UrSaat was vaguely aware of swelling on his knees, of bruising along his arms, of messy hair hiding his unseeing eyes. His bearings were lost. All he knew was the texture of rock, the sound of his own footsteps crinkling below, and the dull urgency pounding in his veins.

He had one goal, and it seemed far away from him. His eyes strained, as if some instinct in them was still trying uselessly to see.

He stopped, closing his blind eyes and trying to listen. The wind was whistling through the wasteland. UrSaat had left the slopes behind, but the direction of the castle was lost to him.

He could not find SkekSept.

And his wounds were getting worse. He felt no fear of that, just passive acknowledgement. His counterpart would be suffering, too.

He strode forward, back stooped. There was nothing for his arms to feel out. He’d dropped his stick long ago.

Crack, crack, crack.

He went still.

Something was approaching in slow, steady steps. They stopped some yards away. UrSaat did not recognise the gait.

“Who...?” He murmured, after a moment. One could almost intemperate it as weary.

“...Hello. I am UrOnze.”

UrSaat’s brow furrowed in thought, and he lifted a hand towards the source of the voice. He felt another press against his, an identical shape and texture.

“Ah,” UrSaat’s lip twitched upward, but he didn’t really smile. “UrRu.”


	17. Go Where You Call Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend appears.

Beat.

There was steam rising from the ceremonial bowls by the staircase. They heard the hiss.

Beat.

SkekHdax could hear everything, the way the crowd fell into silence when they lifted their blade, the gruff noise emitting from someone _away_ from the crowd, separate, and therefore different. Growling low inside their throat, they turned their body around to face it. They could not see it, but above their head the lifted blade gleamed.

SkekSept looked between SkekHdax’s half-turned beak and the Emperor, who was eyeing him reproachfully, and felt something in his gut pull in horror.

It was like time itself had come to a slow.

They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. There was no way in the cosmos that this could possibly have a good result for them;  _there was no way on this planet this wouldn’t backfire!_

SkekHdax pivoted their body and lunged at the Emperor, a terrifying shriek tearing from their throat.

The skeksis balked. Their maws gaping open in pure, unaltered shock. They could only watch haplessly as the blade swung down towards the frail-bodied leader as the youth’s screech rattled their eardrums. SkekSept felt his own body move without consent, he sprinted forward from the crowd and, deciding on the spot what he had to do, hooked his arms around SkekHdax’s middle and hauled them back with all the strength he had.

_“SkekHdax, NO!”_

He did not do it out of kindness. That for the Emperor was unimaginable and hadn’t crossed SkekSept’s mind. He held no compassion for these creatures. But if they killed the Emperor now, surrounded by them all, they’d have no chance. They’d be set upon like a bunch of dogs to a piece of meat, and they’d die a painful death.

The blade missed SkekSo by a hair’s length, and he probably felt it skit across the very hard surface of his beak.

SkekSept and SkekHdax toppled back onto the floor with a clatter. SkekHdax was thrashing violently in the other youth’s arms. He cried out, feeling the claws cut through his feathers, but he didn’t let go. It was only then that the teal skeksis realised he was shivering violently, because he had no idea what to do.

A loud clang nearby signalled that SkekUng had dropped his sword.

SkekSept opened his eyes and peered at them all. They were gawking. Shameless, mute, gawking. He turned his head from left to right, unconsciously rising back to his feet. SkekHdax was hissing quietly under their breath, sliding up beside him and heaving down breaths. Perhaps he was trying to regain his bearings and that was why he hadn’t torn off his companion arms yet.

Slowly, SkekSept saw the ornamentalist lift his hand to his beak, his eyes very, very wide. Beside him, the Gourmand shook his head at him in completely bafflement.

SkekSo was breathing just about as hard as SkekHdax, but he was slowly, slowly regaining his composure.

Then, before any of them could speak, a low hum erected somewhere in the distance, past the palace walls. It wasn’t heard as much as felt, and perhaps SkekSept and SkekHdax felt it more – a low, one-note thrumming. SkekSept felt his heart flare in something he dare not call hope -

 And that was when SkekHdax seized SkekSept, hoisting him  _over his shoulder_ , and ran.

SkekEkt and SkekAyuk slid out of their path, aghast, but this time there was no shrill noise or alarmed jabbers, just staring. But the others were so docile. SkekSept felt hands just miss at a grab at his hair; he barely avoided the scientist’s claws.

The Garthim sprang to life with no audible call, sliding into their path from either side. SkekHdax kicked off the staircase wall and soared between them (Though their aim was off; they thrashed their shoulders against one of them) but they made it through. SkekSept was dropped. His fellow was too young, yet, to carry him for long. The teal boy scrambled to his feet, grasped his friend’s wrist and tugged him onward.

He dare a glance back at the elders. What he got back came in a short sweep – The Chamberlain eyeing him with an unreadable expression, SkekUng’s furious snarl warping his jaw, the Ritual Master’s piercing, suspicious look.

They staggered into the corridor, into the dark, and SkekSept had never been so happy to see the dingy place.

They zig-zagged back and forth, SkekSept barely able to calm his shaking. It seemed that they’d run for hours before they finally lost the Garthim. And when they did -

SkekHdax seized the front of his robe and yanked him close – tearing a long opening down his chest. SkekSept sucked back a cry as their beaks smacked together. “You stopped me.” For some reason, the other youth didn’t seem surprised. Their breathing was ragged.

“We’d both be done for. They’d have killed us on the spot.” The teal skeksis loathed his own voice, how high it sounded. “We’d both be dead. There’s no way we could’ve...”

“...Knew you would.”

His entire thought process halted. SkekSept stared at the other youth. “Wait, what do you mean?”

_Click-click-clack._

With a hiss, SkekHdax dragged him easily around the corner. They pressed themselves up again the wall as the Garthim drew near. They’d come to a bypass; a crossing of several halls. Slowly, SkekSept began inching down the darkened hall, with nothing but the sloping corner keeping them from the Garthim’s view. SkekHdax followed.

Someone was there.

SkekSept stopped short, just barely keeping himself quiet as his companion hit his back. SkekSil was standing in front of them, wearing a smooth, subdued smirk. His eyes narrowed gradually. SkekSept’s heartbeat thundered in his own ears and he cringed.

But then, slowly, with great care, The Chamberlain lifted a finger to his beak. “Hmhm.”

He slunk forward and SkekSept all but flung himself into the wall to avoid him. SkekHdax sneering violently upon hearing the familiar little croon. SkekSept glared, too, at the back of the elder’s head as he shuffled out to meet the Garthim.

The Chamberlain gestured sharply at the creatures, and they began scuttling away. The familiar sight sent an angry shiver up SkekSept’s spine, but they didn’t stand around to watch for long. He knew the Chamberlain was watching as they fled, though, and the idea made the floor feel unsteady below SkekSept’s feet. What was he planning? What kind of trick did he have in mind, and –

 His companion tugged him sharply into the next hall, and he tried to think no more of it as they dashed through the familiar dankness of the lower levels...the route he and UrSaat had first used to escape this wretched place.

UrSaat was out there somewhere, alive. Still walking, if SkekHdax was. Had to be.

The aforementioned counterpart tumbled suddenly. The teal youth reeled forward and caught hold of him before he could fall. “What’s –“

The golden skeksis wrenched away from him and continued onward. But they were losing their balance more often than usual and suspicion was perking in SkekSept’s mind. None the less, he shambled after them. They’d be out. They’d finally escape this cursed place. He daren’t think about it more than that, less luck trip them both up.

The light of the outside world pooled in through the mouth-like opening of the cave, where water once flowed freely. SkekHdax’s figure, ragged and unkempt, was outlined by the glow. SkekSept reached the opening, and grasped the stone at the side to sturdy himself.

The three suns stared back at him from over the horizon, and he felt cleaner air rush into his lungs. His hands, thrown into complete detail by the light, were filthy and scraped. But they were out.

The sound of shifting rocks caught his attention – SkekHdax was sliding down into the little canyon-like area below the castle. They had a long climb ahead of them, and after that...he’d look for UrSaat. SkekSept paused.

He could see his companion properly, now. And he felt a shudder coarse through him. The nape of their neck was blistered, their legs and knees bruised and odd-looking. Swelling? But...bit how had it happened?

“SkekHdax...you’re in pain.” He said, feeling useless. The other did not reply. Why hadn’t they said? Blisters...blister were from the sun. He paused on the little slope, ignoring the water below his feet. They’d been inside this whole time, so if they were suffering from blisters then –

“UrSaat?” He mumbled. The world around him suddenly felt oppressive, and far too large. He looked at his feet and tried to reel himself in, but that familiar fright was sinking into him. The worst part was that he had no idea what was happening to his friend though all this, no idea at all. SkekHdax could defend themselves, but UrSaat...

Up ahead, SkekHdax halted and gave a low, muted growl. They’d heard the name.

“Why didn't you say?” SkekSept asked. But the other didn’t reply.

Then, from above, the low potent hum reappeared. Both skeksis lifted their heads to gaze at the sky. A hum...SkekSept’s brows flew up again and he scrambled forward, dashing past SkekHdax. “Come on! I know – I know that sound!”

...

It came to them both in instinct. The one-note chord, deep and rumbling. Once it began, it seemed it could go on forever. UrSaat had began, his body pivoting in the direction the wind was blowing, and his new companion had followed suit in a voice just a tad higher than his own.

**_“Ooommmmmm...”_ **

A call, as it has always been. And he waited. It went on for half of the hour, with a slow pause for breath. He called. Something in him was reaching, and the longer he waited, the less sullen it became.

The sound went hand in hand with the whistle of the wind itself, but remained when it died down. They both paused to take a breath...and UrSaat heard footsteps clambering some meters away. UrOnze shuffled on the spot beside him, probably leaning in to get a closer look. Someone was running across the desert floor towards them, the crispy soil flying up under their feet.

And something barrelled into him. Something small, warm and spindly in his arms. Thin limbs hooked around his shoulders and he heard his voice cracking, words unintelligible. UrSaat’s four arms came to curl around him and he held him close. The familiar warmth, familiar comfort, came over him then as if it had never left.

He remembered the beginning, and remembered the nothingness. That is, the nothingness of his existence, aside from the presence by his side.

He closed his eyes and settled his head atop SkekSept’s, a serene smile pulling at his face.

“You.”

 


	18. Words That Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go live with the Mystics and forget all our problems. For a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breather episode!

Holding SkekSept in his arms, it was easy to tell that he had changed. A mane, silky but rather thin, was growing in, and his body felt rougher and skinner but no less tall in his hold. Had he been able to see, UrSaat would have known that by UrRu standards, he looked positively feral, with filthy hair, long and straw coloured like drapes about his head, his hair burnt paler by the sun. Counter wise, SkekHdax’s pale colouring had dulled in the darkness. Even though they were both blind, they seemed to sense each other through the very air.

It was like a heartbeat was drifting between them, and they said nothing of it.

SkekSept was terrified of the same thing happening between himself and UrOnze. Those strange sensations he’d been having lately, phantom pain, shallow feelings and half-made thoughts all had a source now. UrOnze’s voice was calm and serene, even uplifted and light, but it sense a chill though him with every note.

But he had UrSaat back, and the sorrow inside of him lifted. He’d never felt relief like this. Suddenly the terror of the quiet darkness of the castle had receded back into the cracks.

...

Jen viewed the skeksis with contempt. It was not the aching kind, the kind that drew out vengeance and hatred that boiled within your stomach, but rather a shallow kind. For he did not remember the deaths of his family, nor the loss of his people – and that is what made him angry. He was too young to recall the parts of his life that had been stolen away from him. Things he did not know and never would, because of them.

When the new UrRu appeared, he had been excited. The calmness of the valley was gentle and comforting, but nothing much happened outside of his lessons. Though quiet and serene, UrOnze was also inquisitive and willing to do more than his elders. More talkative. Jen was sullen to see him go.

But then he came back, with another UrRu. He’d watched from the sun-kissed rocks above, on his stomach with his pipe between his fingers, staring as a taller, paler creature ambled forth. He walked clutching a long, crooked stick in one hand and tapping it along the ground about him. For a moment, Jen was confused – why would someone so young need a walking stick?

But then he saw that he wasn’t leaning on the staff, but holding  _it_ up, letting his arms support the weight of it. Jen saw a pair of pale, glazed-over eyes and realised quietly that the UrRu was blind.

His awe (and excitement) with yet another newcomer was doused at what he saw next.

The pipe fell away from his lips as two other figures wandered into view, dark and pointed in contrast with the smooth surface of the Mystic Dwelling. The first was teal, the colour of some plant leaves he’d seen climbing rocks. His hair was dark and straight, curling at the tips, and he sported a long grey beak and four skinny arms.

A skeksis.

He’d expected something revolting, something horrific, but all he saw was a rather bazaar looking creature. But even so, a burning sensation lifted in his throat and stomach and suddenly the taste in his mouth went sour.

He stared, mostly in disbelief, unable to find words.

Another skeksis came stalking up behind the first, and this one made Jen want to draw away a little. How strange – they  _were_  a skeksis, but they were so different from the first, pale-haired and finely built, lean rather than skinny. There was a frightening air about them, like an animal prowling through the forest.

The Mystics were not alarmed by this arrival and Jen’s concerns seemed to  _bounce_ off them. What were they to do? A quiet, shallow kind of panic took him at the idea that more would come, when the mystics were so against violence and slow –

But his Master assured him the ‘others’ would never come. That for every scratch there was a mark.  _Oh, Master. Will you ever make sense to me?_

The two young skeksis, and the new UrRu, had been led by a calmly smiling UrOnze, who seemed quite pleased with himself.

The smaller skeksis, wide-eyed and all tussled up, was staring at UrOnze with a baffled, uneasy look, and that gaze kept flickering back and further between him and the Master.

The golden skeksis was growling lowly like a canine. Jen stepped quietly into the growing circle of beings. (The other mystics were gathering about them in a semi-circle. The teal skeksis seemed oddly unnerved by that.)

The Master raised his hand, and UrOnze took hold of his long, shrivelled but broad fingers, giving them a squeeze in greeting before standing by his side. The teal skeksis swallowed.

“...You are the...UrRu?”

“...Your friends...are UrRu, are they not?” There was no scolding tone for this apparent mistake however. Jen wondered why the skeksis seemed so alarmed by the sight of more UrRu, when he had indeed been travelling with them all this time.

“The Chamberlain says – well.” The skeksis looked away, fist clenching on all four arms. Jen found himself staring at them from afar, wordlessly and unnoticed for the time being. “We are all shards of each other. Does that mean you...?”

“We...are all part of each other.” UrSu the Master returned, in a thick but steady tone. The teal skeksis stared at the other UrRu, his gaze hesitant – and his eyes came to land on Jen.

Surprise, interest and perhaps puzzlement lit up the bird-like creature’s features, and suddenly Jen found himself knowing that exact expression. It was on he himself made many times. He’d seen it when accidently glancing at a reflective surface during lessons or after spotting some odd creature at the outskirts of the valley.

He didn’t want to empathise with a skeksis, but realised that he did.

It’s not his fault, really, a small part of him said.

“Hello.” Jen began.

“Sorry.” The skeksis said. “I...”

“That is a gelfling.” UrOnze elaborated pleasantly. He seemed amused by their wide-eyed expressions indeed. “There used to be many.”

That was said with far less cheer.

...

The sunset fell with a gentle grace. A soft breeze was passing overhead as the three suns draped the world in purple-pink hues. UrAmaj the cook was idly sprinkling spice into a pot. Somewhere else in the valley, UrSol was humming a low and quiet tune.

It seemed to confused SkekSept, as Jen had come to know his name soon after his arrival. They sat with several Mystics at the centre of the valley dwellings, the fire swaying as listlessly as most of its watchers. SkekHdax – that strange, growling gold one – had snapped and hissed at UrIm all afternoon, initially refusing to be touched by the medicines and bandages. But after a while they relented. They sat away from the group, arms propped on their knees and back slouching.

The talk between the Mystics and the other skeksis was muted and tentative. The old beings listened as SkekSept retold his tale. Jen found himself sucked in by it, barely taking time to blink as the teal creature spoke of far-off lands, a giant looming castle, and their frightening ‘kin’ – who, despite being adorned in finery, terrified him.

How they had tricked him, and hurt him, and even tried to kill him. Finally, Jen had broken his silence, asking why they would kill another skeksis.

UrSu was the one who answered, for SkekSept could not.

“They kill what they fear...and they fear you, SkekSept, and what you may become.”

SkekSept’s face fell, and a rare light seemed to ignite within UrSu’s eye – a rare moment when his mind seemed clear.

He held out a hand and SkekSept took hold of a large, leather-like finger just as UrOnze had down. He seemed to do it without realising it. His entire poise was crestfallen as the Master spoke.

“I do not believe...that you are an evil creature, SkekSept. It is the duty of the young...to see the mistakes of their elders...and know what steps to take to avoid them...”

The old Master turned his head away then, seemingly to gaze at the falling suns. “One day...you will have...a choice.”

He did not elaborate on that, and silence took hold of the valley.

...

Days passed in a blur of gentle warmth and sunlight. Interludes of pipe music would join strings and heavy humming, as the mornings wandered blearily by. UrNol the Herbalist gave him boiled, tangy water sprinkled with leaves. He was told that it would help with the racing thoughts in the night, the constant state of nervousness that the elders had instilled in him.

SkekHdax had refused any attempts made at examining their eyes by the Healer – but if all ailments were truly identical between UrRu and Skeksis, then any the medicine that had failed to help UrSaat (who sat patiently) failed to help them.

UrSaat was accepted among his fellows, but SkekSept noticed that he tended to keep by him. The UrRu were gentle, and though their friendliness was rather quiet and passive (not very emotive that is) they held no disgust, no judgement. But UrSaat seemed different from them.

UrOnze, too. Though SkekSept still had trouble looking him in the pale, oh-so identical eyes...

The herbal tea helped.

He was happy UrSaat hadn’t left him. He wouldn’t know what to do.

They spoke more often, now that they had more words to do so. UrSaat liked to listen more often than not. He’d ask SkekSept to tell him about the stars, about what he’d been doing in the castle up until his escape.

SkekSept did his best, but better times came from the nights they wound cloaks together out of knotted threads. They made their own ‘saddle blankets’ – garments with patterns representing their thoughts.

SkekSept and UrSaat decided to create theirs as so: One side would be blank, the other would be threaded with whatever shape came to mind. Half-thoughts, SkekSept murmured when asked.

Though their saddle blankets ended up being ponchos. They weren’t good at weaving. He’d actually laughed at that.

With UrSaat beside him, and the quietness of the valley, SkekSept almost forgot that skin-coating fear that plagued him in the castle walls.

...

UrSaat became familiar with the shuffling gates of his elders. Unlike UrOnze – and oddball who seemed more active and talkative – he was content to sit and learn. To listen to the rumbling voices. However, he made sure SkekSept was always nearby.

SkekHdax kept to themselves, away from the collective group. They disliked company and hadn’t many questions, preferring to venture into the forests around the valley and prowl about in what seemed to be an internally active temper.

He enjoyed sitting by UrAc as the Scribe recited all the simple musings of their species. UrSaat’s thoughts weren’t simple, but they were quite basic and to the point.  _We are safe, and I have SkekSept with me._

He and UrOnze both partook in several activities together, though they didn’t converse all that much. They balanced small stones on each of their four arms, finding intricate, circular motions based on the way the stars themselves moved.  

He began to listen to more than sounds, to think of odd faraway concepts. That was the UrRu way. But some part of him would always be UrSaat. The other UrRu, even UrOnze to an extent, seemed to act as one mind at times. But UrSaat would never truly see in their way...in a proverbial sense.

It did not mean he was starkly, or even too notably, different from them however. He did go beyond concepts, though. Asked a little more questions though never out loud. And while others were steady, he was almost stern in comparison.

They did not dislike him for his difference. Perhaps, he mused, I will be like them when I am old.

_And when I am old, I hope SkekSept is still with me. He will need me, after all._

...

Just as UrSaat and SkekHdax seemed to repel each other, the same applied to SkekSept and UrOnze. Jen noticed this. He felt uncertain at times, watching SkekHdax stalk off into the distant forests. He didn’t know whether to be worried or not. Perhaps the golden skeksis would feel insulted by such a thing.

He liked UrOnze, and UrSaat, too. Though he had that same aloofness that the elder Mystics had. He seemed to know a lot about things like how certain sounds give away positions, vibrations through the earth, how to tell if a plant was bad by the scent. Things he’d picked up the forests. He had knowledge, little titbits that were new to him as well. He told Jen about them, his voice level and smooth. It seemed to tread carefully.

There was a little stiffness in his face, Jen noticed, he couldn’t quite describe it. Once, he’d actually seen UrSaat  _scowl._

It was when SkekHdax had wandered back into their midst. Whenever they did that (he sometimes hit his shoulder against something or collided with one of the Mystics by accident so it was obvious and attention-grabbing when they appeared) and had stooped down next to UrSaat.

Jen had ventured closer, hoping not to be seen but just so curious despite himself. He’d never heard SkekHdax talk, and like every other noise they made it was growl-like and sharp.

Their disagreement, he discovered later, stemmed from two things: Stop pricking yourself with that needle, and I hate this place. The soft one and I should  _leave._

He meant SkekSept. He had to. And urSaat hadn’t liked it at all.

Jen quickly moved out of the way as SkekHdax stormed by, giving no indication that he’d noticed him.

He did not want to be on their bad side.

...

Jen liked to go out into the glens sometimes, to play music where it wouldn’t disturb the Master’s songs, to think. To muse to himself about...things.

So he was shocked and a little terrified when he found SkekHdax slinking along the mossy banks, hissing at some frightened weasels.

Jen had frozen. He watched as SkekHdax climbed onto a rock bathed in the sunlight, hanging over the edge of the riverbank. With their hair spilling down their shoulders and back, rid of (most) of its dirt, and the long draped clothing, SkekHdax almost looked like a...

Their head shifted to focus in on him and he saw their teeth flash in a snarl.

“Oh.” He said, too loud and too quick. “Sorry, I didn’t know you where here.”

The skeksis gave a brash sniff and turned their beak away. Jen stepped back, a little off put by the fact his glade had been invaded for today.

“I’ll just...go.”

He began walking away. But then –

“You listened. Before.”

Jen froze again and glanced uneasily over his shoulder. “Well I...” How did they -?

“You shouldn’t listen.” SkekHdax hissed lowly. But for once they didn’t seem ready to tear someone’s throat out. “But I am right. The soft one and I. We should leave. Go away. We are the same, and none of you are like us.”

They said nothing else. Jen left, feeling unsettled.

...

SkekSept liked to learn about herbs, and medicine. The UrRu were willing to show him. He learned of things called ‘writing’. Words that stay, Jen had said one day.

That had been odd. Jen usually didn’t speak to him but it seemed that he was doing it more and more. But it was clear he wasn’t liked by the Gelfling.

After what he learned, he didn’t blame him.

The idea that there had been so many living people all at once overwhelmed SkekSept in simple concept. The fact that they had all...died at the hands of the others, who he’d been in the same very room with, was...

It made him shiver on sleepless nights. And a new fear grew inside of him, one he hurriedly tried to bury with learning. The fear that one day he would...

He tried not to think of it. He did not ask many more questions, not all at once. The UrRu gave him pieces of the puzzle bit by bit. From what he could tell...the other skeksis had not always been so vile.

He personally didn’t believe it. If it was so it must have been very, very, very long ago...

SkekSil couldn’t have ever been decent.

Their clothing grew thicker as the world became colder. Red ponchos and fawn-coloured jerkins, fabric to bind their legs and feet.

‘Winter’ came. SkekSept and UrSaat ventured out of the valley for the first time in many a month, and met with the podlings that had sheltered them before.

SkekSept thought that they would hate him. They didn’t seem to. Instead they seemed uneasy, a little afraid. And that was somehow worse.

But the podlings gave the two something times to do. Going back and forth, SkekSept helped ‘rebuild’ to the best of his ability. Though UrSaat had trouble walking with podling children trying to climb his legs. SkekSept would turn around and find is friend covered head to foot with podlings, all clinging to him like buds to a tree branch.

...

They  _hated_ the quiet.

Without noise it was difficult to tell what was going on. And the closest noise resonated from the middle of the sloping floor, where SkekSept and the... _others_ lived.

They went back only to ‘talk’ with them. They hated the slowness of that place. Everything felt numb; it made the senses feel blunt like a sword never polished. They hated it.

They felt a drive. A will to do something. Something to do with the old ones.

‘SkekSept’ felt it too. They know he did, with his whimpers in his sleep and the flinch whenever he heard something akin to a raspy breath.

_This was not ‘over’. This battle between them and us._

...

It had been a year. And through it, SkekSept had noticed the strange feeling the music of UrSol the Chanter built inside him. Like...familiarity. Something about his simple tunes seemed to captivate his eardrums, make his mind go blank. A niggling, bagging sensation.

Then, one day, he was sitting cross-legged on one of the rope-bridges, sliding beads representing numbers along his board to count the months.

A three-note melody was playing from a pipe-like instrument, quiet and low. But it began to bother SkekSept. His concentration slipped. One, two, thee. La-la-la. He gave in and tried to decipher it again.

One note. Then a higher one in the middle before returning back down...

_Mmm- **Mm** -mmm..._

                                                                                                                 

He dropped his board with a clatter. 


	19. Ornamental Wings.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The podlings know how to party, and so do the skeksis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reference to the comics.

Since the gelfling, the widespread natives of Thra, had gone things like history, diplomacy and trade had vanished. There were no need for treaties or councils in a world were only Podlings really thrived; they had no record of time and lived by the seasons, did not portray art or writing past the happy patterns on garments. Without the Gelfling, Thra had gone quiet. Perhaps in a thousand years or so a new race would emerge to take that seat. But for now, only one seemed to remain.

SkekSept and UrSaat often ventured to podling settlements. UrOnze, too, to talk to them in their tongue (that he had learned rather quickly.) SkekSept felt miffed, as most youths would, at being lumbered with the damage his elders had done.

SkekHdax did not care for repairing relations. And if push came to shove, she alone could not defend the funny little podlings anyway.

Some nights SkekSept lay awake stitching together something he’d seen in an old image; of large, spiked, ornamental wings made of transparent skin. He made a pair out of simple cotton.

...

UrSaat, with gentle direction of the UrRu, learned how to move his arms in accordance with the wind as it sang through the valley tunnels. To let it slide along his limbs and hair, to become another knot in a string of motion. They held his arms, gently, and moved them here to there until he memorised the gestures. He found it calming.

He began to understand that the idea of separation was false, and that everything was sewn through a thousand connections. As UrSol had said, music is not created – it is found in the ambience of the forests, the trickle of the stream. All you must do is join.

And UrSaat was good at listening.

Footsteps approached him, crunching gently through the valley thickets.

“Um. UrSaat?”

Jen’s voice, quiet and hesitant, carried over to him. He paused mid-turn, arms still raised upwards so that he resembled a rather theatrical statue. UrSaat’s lips twitched upward on either side. “Jen.” He returned pleasantly.

“I was wondering. About – about whether you could help me understand something.”

The young UrRu lowered his four limbs. He knew by the position of the young gelfling’s voice that he must be far taller than him, and perhaps even intimidating. The other UrRu were large, too, but they were constantly stooped. UrOnze was small and slight like SkekSept in comparison.

He titled his head. “About?”

Jen waited a few moments. “My master mentions things about halves, and healing, and shattering. I know he does not mean it – literally. But what he means to say is...”

“Ambiguous, I think the word is.” UrSaat drew his voice slowly, slowly lifting a hand to comb back his pale hair. He thought quietly for a moment. “Hm. I believe I know what he means. But is it my place to tell you?”

Jen, as kind and loving as he was to his guardians, was not a stranger to frustration. Compared to SkekHdax however he was a saint. UrSaat smiled faintly.

“I understand that. But it would do me know harm to know what they mean either...”

His next words were a tad hesitant. “Would it?”

“It grieves I and SkekSept more.”

“Does it have something to do with how you and – and SkekHdax are both blind?”

Jen was more perceptive than people gave him credit for. UrSaat exhaled slowly. “Yes.”

And he told him.

....

The idea that two creatures could have been whole, like blending clay together, was baffling to Jen. And yet in a strange eerie way, it made sense. The similarities between SkekSept and SkekOnze, the shared blindness. But how could two creatures that had been ‘one’ be so different? Jen had no real perception of good or evil and though he knew the other skeksis were vile, he did not see that with SkekSept.

Did that mean his Master...?

He shuddered.

It was difficult to understand because most creatures, himself included, were flesh. And so were the UrRu and Skeksis. It was magic, mighty and omnipotent and far beyond his understanding.

To give himself piece he did not look at the two UrRu and their counterparts as the ‘same’ person. After all, that was  _before._

Perhaps part of him knew that he simply did not want to look at it any other way. He tried to imagine what it was like. But he didn’t have long to ponder. His Master had summoned him that evening.

The aged UrRu raised his hand and bid that the four guests may go to the podling settlements again, for their ‘ties are needed, repair is a process’. But also that the Gelfling would go with them.

...

SkekSept recalled the first time he’d been at a podling settlement; how they had given him kindness, new clothes, but bamboozled him and UrSaat with loud music and constant bouncing. The warmth and simplicity was comforting and it was amusing to see the same play out in Jen’s face.

He laughed as the Gelfling was dragged into a mad throng of dancing. Shadows basked in flickers against the walls; what the podlings celebrated SkekSept did not know. UrSaat was idly playing a tambourine; tabbing the butt of his wrists against thinly drawn fabric over a bowl. SkekHdax was sitting cross-legged by the wall, glaring at nothing. The shadows cast lines across her beak.

When the Gelfling was released he was laughing nervously at it all, barely able to speak to UrOnze over the noise.

Eventually he began playing his flute, a chipper but more drawn out note than that of the podling orcarinas.

Once again SkekSept found his gaze drawn to SkekHdax; long hair hiding her shoulders, blank gaze boring forward. The fire sent a hue onto her hair. Throughout all of this SkekHdax had been miserable.

The teal youth lowered his head in thought.

Something urged him to stand and he did, wandering slow and steady as he could into the centre of the party. Darkness lay beyond the lights of the little houses and the lights hanging in reeves above.

SkekHdax knew his gait and turned her head his way, a questioning furrow of the brow present on her forehead. The music warbled on in a fast and swaying rhythm. Over his pipe Jen watched inquisitively. UrOnze looked mildly perplexed.

The teal youth murmured something to his companion, and they both walked to the centre of the ring. Podlings quietly shuffled back, peering up at them in puzzlement. A circle had cleared.

The music had taken a turn. The fires had dimmed and cast SkekHdax and SkekSept’s figures in shadow, yet stark their outlines remained as they came to stand before each other. Jen’s pipe played above the rest, long and drawing and repetitive after a brief pause –

Drums beat.

The two skeksis circled one another. Then SkekHdax swooped; SkekSept spun as if to avoid, they slid and turned around each other’s bodies in spiralling movements. While the latter was swift and almost gentle, the other was sharp and moved as if to attack. But their arms crossed; back to back they stooped down and straightened up again, four arms extending in a fast, dark rendition of an UrRu ritual gesture.

At once they recoiled from each other; skekHdax’s foot slid through the dirt in a sweep and SkekSept spun – and he drew back; SkekHdax’s arms rose to either side of him from behind and framed his head in the shape of a triangle -

Then he fell back, caught by the small of his back and the surround podlings drew in a breath of wonder and shock as SkekHdax  _tossed_ her partner overhead.

SkekSept kicked the air and twisted around, landing directly on his partner’s shoulders before leaping off again, legs shaking he landed. Once more they faced each other before their hands latched together and they spun.

 SkekSept leaned back and SkekHdax stooped and they snatched the ornamental wings from the sidelines.

In completely mirrored motions they stepped, one, twice, their backs arched as they tossed the wings overhead and caught it with their duelling hand, then swapped them mid-air with twirl.  SkekSept ducked under SkekHdax’s arm, and then the latter repeated the same motion before both spun on their heels and slammed their ornaments together like parrying a blade.

They circled each other; like duelling enemies: a play of an early memory of swords, stones and an audience awaiting a strike.

They turned away from each other suddenly, and in the wakeful watch of the podlings and Jen, the two danced independently of each other, SkekHdax violent and almost martial-art like, SkekSept quiet and quick, feet ever moving in gentle leaps. SkekHdax moved based on the sounds she heard and the feeling of SkekSept’s footsteps, the swish of the air their feathers, hair and ornaments made, and her style showcased as much. Only feeling.

Jen continued to play in wide-eyed wonder at the intensity of it.

SkekSept moved in motions he somehow knew; actions that were wavy and river-like. He swung from one foot to the other in a constant turn, and here in the dimness, vibrant and colourful and full of life, the two seemed to just barely recall something.

Perhaps, long ago, they had danced before.

But now the sight of a radiant creature known as a skeksis was witnessed once more.

SkekSept’s arms seemed to recall that unknown thing as well and he found himself approaching SkekHdax and offering his hand again; with a silent frown their fingers clasped and they spun again; shoulder to shoulder.

Jen’s pipe drew louder and the drums battered in the din. They lifted their arms and leaned back, their weight on their heels, each let one arm go to lean out in a final gesture. They whipped out, one left, one right, only a single finger now entwined. They’d dove their feet into the ground with a sharp slice to end their motion and at the same moment, the drums slammed to a halt.

Breathing heavily, the two lowered their arms, SkekHdax looking indifferent (seemingly.) SkekSept looked a little baffled at himself. The podlings had gone into a frenzy of delight, leaping up and down and practically clapping their little hands off; any misgivings of the youths had apparently gone for now. Though they saw something else in their dance, an audience’s perspective if you will. They two young people dancing together and assumed what many wound, and found nothing but fondness for it.

SkekSept laughed and leaped once more, arms out, and the podlings leaped as well seemingly for the sake of it.

SkekHdax’s lip curled, and a few meters away, UrSaat lifted his head and smiled faintly in the jittering torchlight.

Some meters away, hidden in a cloak of darkness, the reflection of the scene was played in the eye of a Crystal Bat.

...

The sight had been sickening to behold.

Long ago, SkekSil the Chamberlain recalled the vibrancy of youth, the calamity of life, how unique and thunderous little things had seemed. How they had once conversed with podlings and Gelfling in moderate harmony. The assembly of skeksis had watched with loathing and a good amount of disgust at what they saw, the strange connection they had witnessed between the youths.

SkekEkt noticed, mildly, that it was harder to believe that the waif that had been born at their feet in the Crystal Chamber almost two winters ago was the very same young thing they saw in the image; hair bound and UrRu style clothing clashing terribly with his colour. He was no UrRu but a  _skeksis_ , and even if they wanted the brat dead they rather he didn’t _embarrass_ them.

The hair was an improvement at least.

SkekZok shook his head in cold, muted disdain as the image faded. None of them conversed, for they were taking it in – the two newcomers alive and out there and  _thriving._

Losing their baby softness and growing. Especially the  _savage_ one with the pale hair.

SkekSil recalled the old times with an unwilling longing that night. He did not like being reminded of how easy it was to move once, how boisterous and lively their poises had been. Thra itself had mirrored them.

The scar on his beak seemed to twinge whenever he thought about that waif.

Luckily for a certain Gelfling...the skeksis had been too preoccupied with hating SkekSept that they forget he was there. Fortunate.

SkekZok arched a brow. He was pondering one thing – how had the teal youth known about the ornamental wings...?


	20. Lift Up That Sceptre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The succession of the new Emperor plays out differently.

The scene before them would instil lifelong trauma to anyone who witnessed it. Those of lesser stomachs would have run shrieking from the chamber. Fortunately for those gathered within, this incident was not the first of its kind to occur.

Outside, lightning collected in a low and quiet sizzle. Ten overly ornamented beings stood gathered around a heavily adorned bed. SkekSo’s remains lay in a crumble mess within the bedclothes, the quiet crackle of old skin still popping now and again. It was only when the remains had gone completely silent that the now equally silent skeksis turned to look at each other, exchanging empty, mute glances.

The skeksis stared. Their eyes slid about, wide and intense. The Ritual Master drew to his full height, having been stooped over the bed in keen if unwilling interest. Some of the others, who had been openly leaning on the frame, came away. SkekOk adjusted his spectacles, SkekShod ground his jaw together.

And of course, the Chamberlain gave off his whimper.

In silence, they drew off from the bed and the dust-like remains. SkekEkt lifted a hand to his beak and whispered something sharp and low to SkekOk – breaking the silence at last. He seemed especially appalled by what they’d just witnessed.

The funeral preparations were to be made, with the Ritual Master at the forefront. This would all be done in the same aloof silence. There was no sadness or regret surrounding the death, SkekSo would not be ‘missed’ in a sentimental sense.

But his death reminded him of what they’d like to be forgotten – that death was an unwelcome guest in their castle, and it seemed to get more cosy with each decade.  SkekEkt and SkekAyuk seemed as especially uneasy, despite their movements still being deft. (By their standards.) None of the other skeksis’ minds had gone into a blur like SkekSo’s had, however. Why he’d wasted away faster than all of them was a mystery...

And so the casket was made, the slaves were lined up, SkekSil disliked funerals, they were unnecessary in his opinion. But they were nothing if not formal. One has to keep up appearances after all. Hmm.

SkekOk was charged with writing up the eulogy and last confirmation, to documenting the death. He began with a large letter, intricate and deep black, and began with the time, the date, and the name. He glanced up to listen to the lightning crackling outside. The night was subdued.

How strangely appropriate. SkekSo’s death was uneventful, in the end. Though he would not miss him so to speak, he’d miss the stability. SkekSo had reigned for so long and an unwanted change was on the horizon. Who would rule? He daren’t say it out loud just yet. All of his fellow skeksis were leaving the issue until  _after_  the funeral.   

...

In another world, another time, SkekSil would have tried to claim the throne. As advisor and Chamberlain, most would expect this. In fact for the last trine he had planned it. Up until a year ago, a measly twelve months, he had awaited the Emperor’s death with patient zeal.  But having been banished and re-instated within the space of two years, his prospects were grim. He had been unfathomably fortunate to regain his position and some ounce of respect; apprehending the boy (who none of the skeksis had dared mention in the Emperor’s poor health) had been no easy feat. So this opportunity he had to pass up. And that made bile and loathing burn in his stomach and throat.

He tried to compose himself for the funeral. The time for politics was not now. They had a ceremony to perform.

...

SkekZok took charge, appearing authorities and composed before the remaining skeksis at a very convenient time. Funerals in Thra had been quiet affairs; for Gelfling it was of mourning and slow music, respectful bows and murmured eulogies. For Podlings it was gentle, for UrRu is was solemn in its acceptance.

For the skeksis, the music played loud and in an intimidating rhythm of pipe organs and strings; music that enticed fear of the unknown and the mightiness of the person death had claimed. It brought no comfort – it was not meant to.

As Chamberlain, SkekSil carried on end of the coffin, while SkekZok and SkekUng took the others. Reasonably there should have been four – but no one else was of such a high rank to take up the job.

The scene reflected hazily in the empty eyes of the podlings slaves, as the skeksis drew themselves into a circle around the funeral pyre.

SkekTek would not miss the Emperor, but he would miss the semi-tranquillity his temperament had brought among the ranks. SkekUng and SkekSil’s petty relationship had been stagnated by it and all of them spared the drama. But now, he thought with a vicious gleam in his eye, they were in for a bit more trial. Was a little more interest in their lives worth it however?

He hoped to be left alone to his work, whoever became Emperor. He unlike the others had a sound and  _necessary_  place.

SkekEkt did not desire the throne, for he was not foolish. It had never been in his nature to rule but having the ear and trust of one who did was...an intriguing idea. Shame the Chamberlain had overstepped his bounds that one time. Shame the funeral was of such low finesse, too. He held a shrill excitement for the turnout, but also apprehension – there was definitely going to be a struggle in all this. Crude business.

SkekOk did not usually find himself faced with an uncertain future. They always had a plan and for years he’d known that should the Emperor die, SkekZok, SkekSil and SkekUng would be the ones to battle over the chair. He adjusted his spectacles, and as he took a handful of powder in his hand to ignite the funeral pyre, he wondered what this death would entail. He hoped SkekUng would be wise about.

When they threw their respective flames into the pyre, the fire spluttered in a deafening, violent send-off.

...

SkekShod was never one for this ‘slinking’ business. So he voiced his opinion outright.

“You – you should be the Emperor.”

But SkekZok – strangely – said nothing of this, instead shaking his head in a stiff, curt gesture and eyeing the General – which he had been doing so intently. That is, when he wasn’t placing his piercing look upon the newly-reformed Chamberlain.

Who was speaking lowly with that Ornamentalist and the Gourmand, both of which seemed off-put and frazzled.

“ _It’s me.”_

A glint of metal, and SkekShod’s eye caught that of SkekTek – who was watching SkekUng the Garthim Master advance towards the currently empty throne.

Empty aside from the ornamented sceptre; that lay at an awkward angle. Had it been straightened up a little, the Treasurer thought, perhaps it would’ve made for a more appealing sight.

The Chamerlain’s eyes narrowed just slightly as SkekUng lifted the sceptre from the chair. All around, his fellows eyed him with varying degrees of interest – and apprehension.

No one stepped forward...not even SkekZok.

And yet – though an easy route was pleasant, SkekUng was a competitive creature by nature. The thrill of the hunt is part of the pleasure. And the fact that this seemed to be going too well...irked him slightly. He turned; sceptre glinting off the dim lighting, and saw SkekSil smiling at him in that way that did not reach his slimy eye.

“Do not be hasty, General.”

SkekZok’s voice cut through the silence. Through the rising steam from the ceremonial plates, the skeksis’ figures seemed more warped than usual.

“Hasty? You talk of time when the Great Conjunction is on our doorstep?!” The General snapped in turn. There was a murmur of unsettlement at this. “I make my claim – I am the next most powerful!”

With every octave his voice grew louder.

His eyes latched on SkekSil then, who simply bowed his head and smirked.

“...By all means. Sire.”

...

 _Loathsome_  fool.

The sheer lack of a climax, the utter _simplicity_  of it – it drove SkekSil’s tempter into his teeth and made him want to claw at his own gums. Curse it all. For all his own reasoning and self-placating thoughts, nothing could quell his bitterness.

All because of that brat.

SkekSil sat in his chambers, idly twisting an almost-empty goblet about in his hands as he shamelessly brooded.

_Swish, swish, swish._

Yes, somehow he felt that brat skekSept had caused this turn of events – had he not appeared and caused such trouble.

Him and that golden brute that followed him around like a guard dog.

But he would wait. Ah, yes. A sublet smirk came to him then, his reflection pulled taught in the image on the goblet. Time would be infinitely on their side, soon.

He’d have all the time in the world to plot SkekUng’s downfall.

“Hm-hm.” 

....

Hmph.

Big change. Always comes when you least expect it. Fate is not a homey friend of Augrha. One can only guess the angle of eternity. But she had been almost certain of this path. Hmph! The world getting bored, that’s what it is. New path, new players pattering along with too many toes.

They would come to Augrha.

...

“Are those plants supposed to be moving?”

“I do not care.”

“I suppose not.”

“I care.”

Of course  _UrOnze_ would say that.

SkekSept made a small humming noise, hoping that would substitute as a reply. The winters of Thra were very intricate in their beautify; beads of frozen water decorated hanging branches, bulbous collections of snow and frosted glaze over swamp life. This rocky, mountainous area was no different; though the bitter wind and high altitude was absolute murder on SkekSept’s feathery skin.

A hollow air lay up here, broken only by the slithering movement of a bunch of plants. Or SkekSept had assumed they were plants up until the last minute. That was the new rule of the world to him: Never assume something is what it looks like. These things seemed to go out of their way to prove him wrong.

SkekHdax had gone on ahead, stopping only to wait for him. As far as she was concerned, the UrRu with them were of absolutely no importance. UrSaat was frowning like a perturbed school master at his counterpart’s antics, while UrOnze was seemingly trying to keep the peace with bland if hearty comments about the landscape.

SkekHdax had just kicked one of the slinking yellow-red mop things. UrSaat sighed.

“...Must you?”  He asked in a slow monotone. SkekHdax hissed in retort. To which the UrRu shook his head.

“SkekHdax doesn’t like –“  SkekSept wondered how to put it, “We’ve not been out of the valley in a very long while.”

Things had been tense in the last weeks of that very long while. The UrRu had began a sand painting using earthy tones at first, then proceeded to lace it with green and adorn it with nuts and twigs. Spiralling patterns that branched out in elaborate arcs. SkekSept could not make sense of it and judging by that Gelfling’s face, no one else did.

But it unnerved him that the colours they used at the end – teal and black, gold and brown – resembled his and SkekHdax’s.

His braids were bound in a rather elaborate bun, and before that his dark strands had been plaited. SkekHdax’s hair lay in a scruff main down her back and shoulders, making up for what many creatures would consider an unfortunate figure and beak. SkekSept had only just begun to understand beauty, and he did not see it in himself. In fact when he looked in the mirror he always felt uneasy; the first months of his life, were dark corridors, forests and reflection-less places had been all he knew, he had not seen his own face.

His own reflection was a stranger to him.

The painting had perhaps been beautiful, but the UrRu who had created it swept it away with their tail in a fell swoop that seemed out-of-place in that it was swifter that many of their movements. Such so that SkekSept had jumped.

The UrRu’s riddle-like answers were hard to decipher at the best of times, but their explanation for this journey was beyond ambiguous. Simply put: The two skeksis ought to go there and for some reason (to SkekHdax’s loathing) their counterparts must go, too.

SkekSept wondered if this was to prevent SkekHdax from literally picking him up and dragging both of them away from the settlement once and for all.

Another orange mp-like thing went scuttling across their path on the rocky hill, narrowly avoiding SkekHdax’s foot. “I don’t see anyone.” SkekSept mentioned, peering around.

“Such tragedy for you.” SkekHdax retorted curtly.

SkekSept screwed his eyes shut in slight mortification. “Oh.”

The youth didn’t like these funny vines much. The colours were appealing yes, but they kept tangling up his ankles and one would begin to think it was deliberate. He spoke, or rather thought, too soon.

They nagged his shoulders next and he jerked his arm more forcibly this time, huffing –

And then suddenly he was being wrenched clean off the floor. His sharp and quite frankly silly squawk of fright alerted SkekHdax, who lunged forward to snatch at him – catching him by the ankle and violating trying to pull him back. UrSaat had been too far behind to do anything and by the time he’d slung himself over the next obstacle-like boulder, SkekHdax had been dragged up by the orange tendrils too.

“Do not touch.” UrOnze called in muted surprise. “They will pull you up.”

“Excuse me, UrOnze, but that does not help!” SkekSept called down at him, as the two UrRu came to stand under them. UrSaat was reaching upwards but failed to find him.

“Are you all right?” He called up quietly.

_“Hmph!”_

SkekHdax made a noise that sounded like a cross between a cat’s yowl and a dog’s bark. An eye had been thrust into their midst and the other skeksis youth felt his stomach turn at the sight of the bloated, bloodshot thing. UrSaat had turned to face the newcomer, UrOnze lowering his head in silence.

The eye withdrew. Someone was talking and shoving the tendrils aside; a clammy grey-purple hand, fat and old, came brushing through the fray.

An equally gnarly woman in a ragged dress, plum red and grey hair a frenzy, had appeared. Her nose was squashed, a horn perturbed from her head. SkekSept had never seen something so bizarre in his very short life.

The woman had shoved the eye back into an empty socket, and even UrOnze seemed slightly taken aback.

She put her hands on her large hips and stared up at him with a loud huff that seemed to jolt her whole body. Her one-eyed gaze was accusing.

“Erm, sorry.” For what, he wasn’t sure. Getting caught forcible in her – very strange garden. SkekHdax snarled, lip quivering above her teeth.

The woman growled right back; the snarl ended in a loud, excellently done snort. So veracious that SkekHdax was shocked into silence for the first time in her life.

“Tiny skeksis crawling around like lizard. What next? Little UrRu?”

“Hello.” UrOnze ventured. He received a huff,

“Took you long enough. You! Are. You. Both.” The purple face had turned back to the suspended skeksis, single eye broad and intent. “Skeksis?”

Though she’d confirmed it herself, apparently they were still on trial. SkekSept was too baffled by her manner that he didn’t think twice about answering. “Yes. Skeksis.”

“Us two.” SkekHdax hissed as an afterthought; having surprisingly stopped her violent thrashing. SkekSept didn’t know how to feel about that.

The woman harrumphed again. “Drop them.”

She’d barked out this command to no one in particular – and then the tendtrils complied. SkekSept’s bony knees never did grow any sturdier and slamming into the ground sent a gong-like rattle through his body.

His golden-companion, however, landed on her feet and pounced at the hobbling old woman – who hitched up her skirts and took an especially long stride, effectively stepping out of the way just in time to send the lunging bird-lizard smacking into the floor.

“Hmph! Young things are always hasty. Think they can kill everything by squawking at it.”

SkekHdax’s claws curled, scraping deep dents into the stone. The noise made SkekSept’s teeth ring unpleasantly.

Their UrRu companions had finally regrouped; UrSaat padded at his head while UrOnze peered after the strange woman ... who had stopped some yards away.

 _“Well?_ Did you come to lie on the ground like rugs or did you come to Augrha for something important? Something smarter than lying on the floor?”

Goading SkekHdax was something SkekSept never thought wise. The woman hobbled into the tendrils, muttering some ushering command – and they shifted out of her way.

Disappearing into the dark tunnel that had just become visable. A chill ran up SkekSept’s spine.

UrOnze peered back at him and eerily, the boy wondered if he’d felt it, too. Mute, they followed after her.

The tunnel closed off behind them and plunged them into darkness. SkekSept’s chest heaved slightly; he felt UrSaat seized his wrist.

Darkness, coldness, it was all too familiar.

But then, noise, light ahead. SkekHdax ventured further in, faster and not put off by the dark. UrOnze was a quick second, curiosity mildly apparently on his lean face.

SkekSept led UrSaat into the chamber –

\- And his mind nearly shut down.

A big thing. Spinning thing, rotating spheres at an axis. The noise constant and rhythm-based.

A lance through his thoughts; something about this, not the thing itself, but the concept was familiar.

 _“Remember_  it, do you?”

Luckily he still had his skin after that scare!

Augrha had appeared right beside him, face uncomfortably close; eye flickering over his features in search of – something. Shoulders hunched in distaste, SkekSept did his absolute best to keep eye contact.

“I, um. No, I’ve never been here before –“

“No! But to get here you have to know about the worlds, otherwise no little skeksis would be popping into existence, if no UrSkeks were studying planets, hmm?”

This was all said very fast at varying tones, it took the little huddle a moment to digest it. SkekHdax was sneering in the general direction of the moving contraption, hearing only the noise...not seeing the wondrous spinning order.

She must’ve disliked it, but she seemed to dislike Augrha more.

“You, girl, you don’t care about the planets, do you?” Something in the old woman’s tone suggested this was a statement, not a question. She harrumphed, not at all intimidated, “Thinks she can hit every with a stick and it’ll make sense, does she?”

SkekSept had never seen so many of SkekHdax’s teeth at once. “Old woman squawks more than all of us. Don’t need  _fancy words._  You want to say something.”

She wasn’t already saying things – or did she mean, something in particular.

The noise Augrha made next...couldn’t really be credited as a laugh, but it seemed to drip with mirth. “Yesss! Girl knows its coming, knows something is going to happen! It already has, but more’s to come?”

“What do you mean?” UrOnze said, voice soft.

“You. Him. All of you. Yes, you too, Little Princess!” She said, sniffing at SkekHdax as she fumed, “Things changed when you came! Augrha did not expect it, no! But she knew that it was a diversion, someone went off the path, and now there’s new paths...but they all lead to the same place!”

“Is this what the Masters were talking about?” SkekSept asked, trying his best to keep up.

“Hmph.” Augrha sat down, having snatched what looked like a figurine (of a skeksis with strange goggles, it was rather alarming) and twisted at its head. “Before we get to the future, we go through the past, yes, yes? What was it like back when the world was fruitful and the skeksis still had their wits and morals?”

“They had morals?”

SkekHdax’s disdain dripped from her tongue. The inquiry surprised not only the other skeksis, but the UrRu.

UrSaat was frowning thoughtfully. “Where they like Him, and her, once?”

“Never that small and annoying.” Augrha waved a gnarly hand, invoking another sneer from the pale-haired skeksis in question, “Always petty, but they had brains once. Maybe you could even call them smart. Putrid lizards!”

SkekSept didn’t know why he felt offended. “Then – tell us. Please?”

The eye bore into him.

“Listen, then, small skeksis, while I tell you of the  _Golden Age._  Mmm.”


	21. To The Crystal Chamber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Crystal Calls. And it cannot be refused.

Hands, feet, pain through them – but not an ache of fatigue; these injuries were borne from carelessness, from haste. The youth scrambled further along the thin ravine’s edge; dry dirt crackling underfoot. He was sure his companion could hear. His hair tickled his cheek; neat braids slowly coming unkempt. It had been raining, dawn was creeping in but darkness still clung to the sky. SkekSept lifted his head to stare through the dimness.

A familiar crackle lit up the sky, and a nauseating clarity and rightness came with it. An unwilling familiarity.

Behind him, he heard SkekHdax inhale, slow and deliberate as they paused upon the tip of the cliff, overlooking the wasteland. Another crackle punctuated their silence.

...

Why did he go back, you ask? Why don’t you ask him, seeing as he seems so dead set. Almost against his own will, it plunges on. Let us go back. It had been night, and warmth kept SkekSept’s mind in an uneasy lull, a foggy dream as he drifted in and out of slumber. It had been stuffy, it had been  _too comfortable._

And then he felt it. Like a lance, a sear, it sang through his blood. Like hair being brushed the wrong way, oh it had been most disconcerting. Not cold but with the same effect. SkekSept had lay there, trebling and suddenly feeling very small. Like those faint feelings he’d come to interpret as torn memories and UrOnze’s emotions. But not quite.

Lifting his head, he saw SkekHdax was up and on her feet, glaring viciously at the door-less entrance like a hound on its guard. She must have heard him stir, he wasn’t so subtle, him – and her head turned his way; pale locks hanging over unseeing eyes.

“You too.” Not a question.

...

A shadow fell over the sleeping forms of the UrRu. UrOnze and UrSaat were laid n their strange wooden furniture that seemed to have been built to hold their sloping frames. Both fast asleep, undisturbed – they had no felt it. Watching UrSaat’s chest rise and fall, and SkekHdax prowl in the coner of his eye, SkekSept was struck by an alarming worry. Why hadn’t their counterparts felt it too?

And it happened again, a ring through his bones.

Again a few moments later, and an overwhelming sensation followed. Urgency. An urge. He had to – do something. No, no, go somewhere. He probed his feelings worriedly and –

Unbidden, the image of the castle eurupted in his mind. Then a smoking furnace, a hole of fire – then  _purple gleaming reflecting off –_

...

All night. He’d tried to fight it off. But to no avail. And SkekHdax, who had been egging them both to leave after the weird incident with Augrha, seemed raring to leave. But it was  _insane._  Go back? Back to  _them_? The elders with  - with their foul voices and violent hands? And the Chamberlain?!

He had to quell the spike of loathing that set off in his chest, so as not to wake poor UrOnze. No, no, it was madness and yet...

Yet this was driving  _him_  mad.

...

For the ninth time that week, the crystal called out its shrill cry. Ninth! SkekSil was at his wit’s end and that didn’t account for his fellow Skeksis, who were just as aggravated. Usually the Crystal calling was a time for worry, or perhaps wonder. Always a deep and  _important_ affair. And yet the first time it had rang, nothing had come of it. They’d loitered in the Chamber for hours on end to see what it wanted, and when the ring finally subsided, nothing had happened.

Hmph. Perhaps after all of these years it was broken.

He was struck by a thrill of worry then. Broken? Impossible! They would know. Nothing was out of the ordinary, that silly Scroll Keeper had attended to his records and the skies. Astronomy was not his forte, but after the last heavenly catastrophe, they weren’t going to let the cosmos sneak up on them again.

Dinner had ceased; and each of the court scurried off to their own accommodations. SkekSil had passed the Ritual Master and noted the foul look on his face. Hmm, none of his spiritual warbling had brought any peace to their dilemma. SkekEkt was looking paler than usual, and that was not a compliment.

“Mmm **mm** m...”

A turned corner. The torchlight bathed the crooked pillars; caressed the flesh-like stone. SkekSil’s eyes trailed over them; it had been too long to recall a time where he’d bothered admiring the interior of the castle.

_Trickle._

A noise – likte little pebbles scattered about the floor. He paused. A podling, stumbling around? Hand to his chest, he leaned in, squinted into the dark –

And a figure peered around at him, and was frozen in its scream.

So was he.

...

In the end, in the incessant call in his body, his entire being, dragged him away from UrSaat’s side. It made his mind grow strange and empty, his feelings tangled up. The journey back was wordless and he barely ate. The closer they got to the castle, however, the clearer his mind grew, like he was coming back to himself...

SkekHdax was in a far worse state. She kept scratching at her eyes, pawing at them – and then halfway back she’d collapsed, screeching and kicking. He’d tried to stop her from hurting herself, horror dawning upon him as he scrabbled at her wrist.

“Pain! Pain! Make it _cease_!”

Never, never had he heard her speak in that voice – almost, almost fearful. She was as confused as him, her eyes had never pained her before. And her words – she liked to keep this snappy and short, cease was a strange one.

Why? Why was this happening...?

...

Getting into the castle was far too easy. He wished it had been harder to re-enter this place. And yet away from the quiet and the jabbers of the podling village, SkekSept felt more awake than he ever had. His senses practically sang to life as they wandered in. SkekHdax’s eyes were prickling still but she seemed more stable now...

It was with a sneer and a tremble respectively that they wandered in through the sewers. He had forgotten the rank smell of death. He hadn’t missed it.

That call drew them further, further in. It was late, so late at night that sound seemed to be muffled by the air. The skeksis must have all been asleep. SkekSept inhaled and took the lead as they left the sanity of the sewers to the outer halls.

It was not until he passed a poor little podling (his heart sank) that he started feeling properly afraid and small again.

No. He clenched his fists. He wasn’t a frail newborn. He’d see what this – thing was – then they would be gone again.

UrSaat, he thought with a ring of horror, would be worried.  _Why_ had they done -

Without thinking, perhaps trying to distract that guilty thought, he’d peeked around the corner.

Lo and behold.

...

A thin had clasped at the many layers covering his chest, and thereby, his heart SkekSil had never been so jarred in well, moons. It was not a nice experience, almost having a heart attack. They looked quite comical; their expressions of alarm darn near identical...

And then the shock seeped away, down his neck, through his skin to vanish, and realisation took its place. SkekSil stared, his expression stony and intent, as SkekSept backed away, arms raised as if to block some incoming attack.

... SkekSil was nothing, if not a fast thinking. With a husky laugh, still shaky from the aftermath of that little surprise, the Chamberlain leaned forward. “Hm-hm. Quite a scare you gave me, My pet.” He breathed. Keeping his voice soft and quiet, couldn’t alert the others, no, no.

Clenched fists and narrowed eyes, the boy shot back a look of loathing and terror. Ah, SkekSil was familiar with it...

But not the slight growth in his height, the length of his messy braided hair – and his  ** _UrRu_** clothes. Uck.

“...What are you waitin’ for?” The boy muttered shakily, his voice thick with hate. “Aren’t you going to – to yell? Call the – others?”

Behind him a blur of bronze and gold alerted of him  _dear_  little SkekHdax. Oh my – SkekSil hide his raw shock at how _they’d_  grown far more. That mop of light hair had lengthened to an unkempt main. A flash of white and he saw their teeth.

But he didn’t not lose his composure, for he had all the cards. Smiling slyly he said, “Oh, but we wouldn’t want that, my dears. If I called say – right now, they would end you. You look parched – a run home would be most impossible, hmmmm?”

It dawned on the boy’s face slowly; the realisation of what he implied. Smart child, seemed he’d learned. Eyes narrowing he went on, tone all a wry, “Even if your golden friend maimed me, they would still hear. You wouldn’t want that...? Best if I stay quiet.”

They wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on him. One shrill call and the podlings would sound the alarm. They’d taken precautions lately.

“...What are you going to do, then, before telling on us?” SkekSept threw back, glaring wretchedly at the floor.

SkekSept’s smile crept further up his face and twisted. “...Things have changed, My Pet. For the worse. You recall our dear friend SkekUng...?”

Vivid grey-blue eyes met his again, a flash of hate. Relatable indeed. “Mmm-mm, of course you do...he is Emperor now.”

The golden one’s head whipped to face him too then; the boy looked positively horrified. “ _Him?”_

Strangely, the little beast hadn’t uttered any argument. Usually they would stop any discussion between the boy and the chamberlain with violent force...clawing at their eyes...? Hmm.

“We are in a destitute situation, my friends and I.” The Chamberlain drawled, shaking his heavy head. The boy scowled at him. “...It seems we have a common interest. Mm.”

The enemy of my enemy...

_R-H-R-H-R-hing..._

The Crystal Called.

The two youths jolted like they’d been burnt, heads turned in its general direction. SkekSept clung at his own arms, face crumpling up – he did look a sight, now didn’t he?

“What – what is that?”

Clarity. SkekSil smiled slowly, a level chortle dancing from his tongue, “The Crystal Call you back, my sweet. This is where you belong.” That is why they came back. They felt it.

Perhaps not all of his fellows would ignore this call despite the many false alarms. For now he knew it wasn’t for them. SkekSil tapped the side of his beak, sending the two another sly stare as he began moving back the way he came.

“Keep to the shadows, My Dears, for our brethren will be prowling.”

They would not leave. They had to know, didn’t they? Why else would they come?

Oh, how the cards had come to him. He watched the two dart back into the emptier parts, a plot already brewing in his skull.

 


	22. Apart of Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A memory, and a prank.

_Soft glows were common place, whites and pearly yellows and faint blue and purple. But mostly yellow, yes. Yellow and cream, and darker was the face those swimming colours surrounded, shimmering gently. They rippled when the figure moved; a face turning sideways. High cheekbones and pale eyes laced with green._

_Those eyes stared back, and the warmth that brimmed within them made something inside him glow; that shine bloomed twin-like within his soul. Their hand entwined. My friend._

_For there were strings attached to this happiness, keeping it back. Trapped. Was it not allowed? This feeling – this ache. No, not pain. It wasn’t an emotion so much as a state of being. A **reason** to live._

_The hallway around them began to morph. Moving? They were moving, the strange vague shapes of walls and arches blurred._

_It occurred to him that they were spinning. Dancing. Left, right, around and around, away so the arms were outstretched. Long robes fluttered in the air. They were young and they were silly._

_This feeling..._

_Being held in a cold, cold cell; bars casting crisscross shadows upon his skin. Warm as a taller figure held him tight, clinging, clutching. Comfort, soothing, gentleness –_

_But then, in contrast, juxtaposition – fire burning against the dark of night; the flurry of sparks that leapt from the inferno. The music clambering and synchronising - percussion thrumming like a rapid heartbeat. Their figures jumping across that light, making them into shadows of themselves. Power, **passion,**  as they took control of a dance. As  **she** regarded him with unknown thoughts, the excitement, the shallow fear, the spirit._

_Both of them, together, pale, pale hair and eyes, hands that held._

_You._

_But then something else appeared within the illusion – not a person or being, but a sound. A noise that trilled and called to their very bones. Rattling them with excitement, **we found them at last, it’s the song -**_

_..._

The odd dream faded from SkekSept’s mind within moments of waking. He was left befuddled and unsure. Foggy images remained; he chalked them up as warped memories and ideas. For yes, they were familiar. But that feeling. He couldn’t describe it.

It had been like watching from another’s perspective. But trying to repeat the pictures in his head proved futile; they faded away. Oh. How sad. SkekSept didn’t know why, but his heart was struck by a severe sadness. Almost childish, really.

It was – longing? For something.

But the matters at hand came back to him, and he thought no more of the funny dream. SkekHdax was still asleep – one of the few times the paler youth wasn’t up and prowling. Her blind eyes twitched behind heavy, scabbed eyelids – SkekSept felt his chest constrict in both sorrow and – anger? The Crystal must be responsible, if it was responsible for bringing them back here. But why? And SkekSil...urgh, with loathing, the boy got to his feet and began pacing.

They’d retreated back to the dusty halls of the Skull-Keeper, as they’d come to call him. Must have been an eerie fellow, keeping trophies like this. Now that the Emperor was dead – where did that leave them?

Well, The  _General_  wanted them dead. And he was no friend of some of the others, if the Chamberlain was right. But did ‘right’ mean ‘truthful’.

Plonking himself down on the cold, stone bed-frame and ignoring the discomfort, the boy tapped his fingers along his beak. What to  _do_.

Unbidden, as were many of his thoughts these days – there came the memory of the squabbling, of the snide remarks. This lot hating each other, almost as much as they hated him. Toss a rock at them and they went into a flurry, like a ripple in wa...

A terrible, tricky, risky idea ploughed itself clearly into his mind. Oh no. No, no, that was a terrible idea.

And yet. Something in him, a strange feeling seared. A kind of – delight. It scared him yet made him giddy all at once. Worse yet, SkekHdax would probably love it. Oh dear. Scowling in thought, he wandered over to wake his companion up, ignoring the nagging notion that UrSaat would  _not_ approve of this...

...

Clink, clink, clink. Perfect stacks, perfect piles extending up to the rigid ceiling. They gleamed with a metallic, stifled kind of glow as the wavering torchlight fell upon gold. SkekShod the treasurer leaned over, running a long finger along the stack to his left to straighten it. Under his below and sprawled all around him were scrolls to keep tally; there had been a raid, and it was time to re-count. For the fifth time. With a seemingly permanent frown, he scribbled down another set of numbers.

A wheezing, hacking cough left his chest and he had to pause. Dratted throat. How was he supposed to get – any work done? And after this SkekUng insisted they all come to gather in the throne room... he had important work to do!

Lately things had been alarmingly and annoyingly active, thanks to the transmission of SkekUng from General to Emperor. He insisted on sending beats to prowl after those waifs; even suggested they do something about the UrRu.

Half of him agreed; they had started interfering, had they not? But at the same time, what could they do about those aimless vagabonds without it coming back to kick them?

Grumbling incoherently to himself, he picked up the quill...

A shadow passed over the wall behind him, unnoticed. Ten minutes passed, then an hour or so – SkekShod’s eyes happened to trail between the scrolls of the third and fifth tally.

Shock all but danced through his skull. His eyes bulged in shock – and entire bag and a half of treasure –  _ounces of treasure,_ were unaccounted for! With a silent glance around, he quickly re-checked that particular stock!

Then the previous counts. Yes, they were missing! Between this morning count and this evening’s! Fury made him bristle, as did shock. Which  _hideous_ , bloated fiend had thought themselves clever?! He would  _see about this_!

Gathering up his findings, he stormed out of the chamber. And, once he was gone, a smaller skeksis poked his head out from behind many piles of stacked treasures; a paler one at his side. Low snickering filled the otherwise empty chamber.

...

The throne room promptly exploded.

 Yelling, calling, jeers and a lot of pointing. SkekUng was sitting upright in the throne, looking offended between the two halves of the court that were hammering into each other with verbal venom. SkekZok the Ritual Master had tried to keep himself above it all until his absence in the argument caused an accusation from SkekOk, and now he was reprimanding the Scroll-Keeper, thus leading to the Treasuring thinking he’d been ignored.

He’d accidently ended up elbowing the Gourmand, which nearly led to him being bashed in the neck.

_“If you hadn’t been so blind –“_

_“Nobody wants your relics!”_

_“Will you calm yourselves?!”_

Then, finally, a loud clang rang through the din as SkekUng slammed his sceptre down, “ ** _SILENCE!”_**

It darn near shook the dust off the rafters high-up in the looming ceiling. Reluctant silence followed as the bunch stole poisonous looks at each other. SkekUng slowly sank back into his throne, glaring a warning vengeance upon the first fool who tried to instigate the prattling again.

Finally, SkekTek spoke up, in a quiet mutter so he didn’t appear insubordinate. “Perhaps. The Treasurer should take the tally again – with someone at his side. To be sure. Then we will see.”

Said Treasurer looked downright appalled at the questioning of his count, but SkekOk nodded quickly to avoid any resurgence of a barmy. SkekUng scowled. He should have been the one to give the order, but he made no move to bring up this. He wanted it over with!

“Fine! See to it this is buried! No more academic nonsense!”

...

SkekOk had expected it to be a mistake. There had been times when the Treasurer’s paranoid self had gone into a frenzy like this, but the error had always been small. This was a rather glaring one. But staring at the written record and watching in aghast alarm as SkekShod showed him what was clearly missing...he didn’t know what to say.

Perhaps it would help if SkekEkt, SkekSil and SkekAyuk weren’t  _hovering over their shoulders,_  nosy things that they were.

“You see?” The Treasurer hissed huskily, gesturing stiffly at the empty spot, “It has been stolen.”

SkekEkt ran a hand down his collar, just as surprised as the Scroll-Keeper. That Gourmand seemed just as baffled, gawking broadly. SkekSil let off that verbal signature of his, darn whimper. “He is right.” SkekOk admitted weakly, lowering the parchment in his hands. “It – it is gone.”

“A podling wouldn’t have been so witty as to offend in such a way.” SkekSil trilled in quietly, flexing his fingers in thought.

“No.” SkekShod was eyeing them with opening accusation. The Ornamentalist drew back, arms tucked in.

“ _Hmph!_  I do not need treasures, I make them!” The gourmand nodded sagely behind him, with equal denial,

“I have no use for them.”

As they prattled on, the conversation gradually shifted to others – SkekZok? SkekTek, perhaps, meddling with the materials...? He’d always been a sneak, that one, and SkekSil assured them he’d never dare trespass after his gracious reinstatement. He wouldn’t risk the Emperor’s wrath. By doing something so petty.

Slowly, SkekSept slunk down the hall to just before the archway; light poured into the dark, gloomy hall from the open chamber entrance. Hidden against the wall, he risked a peek inside.

Grinning broadly to himself, he listened to the disharmony in their conversation. Unbeknown to him, SkekSil was having his own, separate little inner monologue as the boy crept away again.

Of course it had to be SkekSept that had oh-so sneakily taken the treasure. And he almost felt – what was it? Quite proud. But that was not the matter to focus on.

No, this little trick he’d played told the Chamberlain a great deal – the little waif was indeed where he belonged, and perhaps in time he’d come to realise they had combined interests. It was inevitable. He just had to let circumstances herd the youth back to his side.

He daren’t hum to himself in satisfaction; he had a ruse to keep up.


	23. An Enchanting Talk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is hard to make friends.

_“That’s how I know it’s coming!”_

_SkekSept must’ve looked especially simple, staring at Augrha like that he did. As the spinning spheres and rotating cosmic models moved about, his attention kept waving. SkekHdax glared at her sharply, however; she could pick sounds apart like a dissecting doctor._

_UrSaat, surprisingly, was the one who spoke up. How he and his counterpart’s blind eyes faced the general direction of the old woman was quite eerie indeed, in how similar they appeared for but a second. A soft frown played about his brow. “The Conjunction?”_

_Conjunction, again and again, that word. UrOnze, who had been fiddling with several knick-knacks on Augrha’s tables, looked up. That may sound like a quick movement; but it took a full ten seconds for him to complete it. And even then his attention seemed to hover around the **vicinity**  the old woman inhabited rather than her._

_“Suns! Moons! Starts! Rocks!” She jerked herself around to face them all on cue with the last word, making SkekSept jump in his chair slightly. “That’s what tells me of the Great Conjunction! The suns align, all in place, and great changes happen!”_

_With a sharp ‘hmph’ she looked SkekSept **straight**  in the eye, “Canthe  little skeksis guess what kind of change? Does he have an idea? Its staring him in the face, it is!”_

_He was quite sure she didn’t mean that literally._

_Big change... “You mean – us? Me?” The ‘split’ of being that had created him?_

_“Yes!” Augrha bellowed, sending him into a leap again – with the air of someone who had been waiting eons for him to finally come to the conclusion. “You are just a little change! You are just a shard of something that was already there, not something that came from nothing!”_

_SkekHdax grumbled something incoherent. Ignoring her foul mood, SkekSept pressed on, hoping for some answer. “So what’s the Great Conjunction?”_

_“Not for you ta know! You can try to **guess.** Those rotten lizards up in the castle? They don’t want it to happen a certain way! Why do you think, Skeksis? Hm? Hm?”_

_Leanign away from her as best he could (for she loomed so close he could smell dust and foul breath) the boy fought for an idea. “Um. Because – there could end up being even MORE young skeksis?”_

_She cuffed him about the head. SkexHdax jolted where she sat, reaching broadly for Augrha – who easily batted her arms down with a stick like they were as muscular as twigs. “Ha! Wrong idea! Not shattering, but whole!”_

_It sank to the pit of his stomach. “Wait – so ... if the Conjunction goes the right way ...”_

_..._

This little inner flashback was halted violently when SkekSept tripped. His companion collided roughly with his back and the two hit the floor of a well-lit chamber; brazenly different from the shallow darkness of the halls. He  _really_ should have been paying attention.

.... SkekSept looked up, and his eyes almost stung.

Colours. That is, better ones than the castle usually offered. There was a thick, mind-numbing scent in the air; hot and perfumed. Scowling, SkekHdax got to her feet first, clearly dissecting the scent to its very core. The flicker of the lamp-light danced over many table-tops laden with sheets, jewels, and brittle looking ornaments. He brushed back his unruly hair absently.

... Uh oh, he knew who lived in this particular chamber.

A soft chatter sent them bolting like common rats behind one of the larger pieces of furniture; an ornate wardrobe-like piece that had more curves in it than one of the UrRu’s spirals. SkekHdax luckily followed his lead.

A lamenting sigh escaped his break. How he loathed hiding around like this.

On cue, SkekEkt hovered into the chamber, smoothing out the broad red further sporting from the back of his head. In the light, which was seemingly rationed in this place, SkekSept had to admit he looked...sparkly? It wasn’t his cup of tea. SkekHdax, of course, could have no opinion on him.

... That is, SkekSept was sure he heard others refer to SkekEkt, the ‘squeaky one’ as a he. He Ws always fluttered alongside the cook one at the Chamberlain’s side. Did they all takes sides such as this? Did SkekEkt dislike the new ‘Emperor?’

Why did he care?

Why did he have any ounce of interest in these – creatures? He knew SkekSil perhaps wanted to displace the loud one – SkekUng, urgh, all these names – but what did it mean to the youth if some other menacing person took the throne?

... Still. Perhaps – perhaps it would do better if some of the elders didn’t want to kill him. They controlled everything – they attacked the podlings, any other sentient being was under their mercy. Perhaps he could do something about that.

As he had these thoughts, SkekHdax leaned in and nudged him forward.

Seemed she’d had the same idea. Perhaps longer than him. When she stopped him from killing the last Emperor before his time...

That clarity almost made him forgot himself. SkekEkt was humming absently to himself; working with deft fingers and long, frighteningly shiny tools. Breathe in.

He stepped forward, keeping distance, and all at once out in the open his confidence vanished. SkekSept tucked all four arms behind his back, shoulders hunched.

And coughed quietly.

With a quirked brow, SkekEkt turned his head to look, all haughty and opinionated.

And that look shattered so quickly SkekSept almost dodged the proverbial pieces. The two of them stood there, staring silently at each other. Well, at any rate, if this had been a terrible idea – there was no going back.

SkekEkt’s hand came to hover against his chest, and he cast a look behind him at the chamber entrance, as if barely able to fathom how he got in.

And then SkekHdax skulked out behind him, keeping a far larger distance between them. The warmth of the room and blasted scent was making his head hurt.

SkekEkt watched the golden-haired youth move with a anxious kind of malice, and then those eyes found SkekSept. The difference in how the elders regarded him and his companion never failed to brush him the wrong way.

“You – you ...” For once there was no outburst, no shrill cries. Perhaps, heavens be, they were getting used to him. Heavy-lashed eyes narrowing the elder eyed him down, aghast. “What are you doing here, young thing?!”

“SkekSept.” The biting tone made his voice come out in a wavering note, and he frowned at himself. “You  _know_  that.”

A lock of black hair slipped by his eye, and he shoved it back.

Placing the scissors down with a loud clunk, SkekEkt uttered a ‘hmph’ of indignation. “That is of no consequence! You cannot just – trespass into one’s domain! You were banished – no, not even integrated! The General... Forgive me, Emperor, will have you hide.”

SkekSept sensed that he was perhaps going to sell him out, so he quickly lived his hands. “Uhhh – actually I came to uh...talk to you?”

That got him a sharp, searching look, but he had his attention, grasping at it like strings. Flexing his fingers as his fair-haired friend loitered in the background, poking at fabric, he struggled to improvise. “Y-you know me, I don’t....exactly know much –“ Another ‘hmph’ “And I was wondering – some of you all go into groups and such, right? You, the cooking one –“

“The  _Gourmand,_  child.” SkekEkt corrected waspishly.

“The one who makes the – beautiful meals.” Surprise lit up the elder’s face then, and feeling strangely guilty, SkekSept averted his eyes. “You all have – roles, right? You make things pretty?”

Then the strangest thing happened. SkekEkt chortled. It was brief, suggesting it was an impulsive thing that he quickly ended. Condescending, but nonetheless pleased he said, “I _ornate_ , child. I create, and design, and modify. I turn useless, ugly scraps into works of wonder. Otherwise we’d all look a sight, wouldn’t we?”

A mean-spirited thought of the chamberlain in rags danced through SkekSept’s head. SkekHdax smirked despite herself. SkekEkt frowned slightly, having ended his grand spiel, and he glanced disapprovingly at their UrRu clothes. Trying to busy his uneasy hands, SkekSept tucked his hair back behind his neck.

“You do not seem to understand that those robes and pigments do not flatter you at all. It is a shame.” Straightening his collar again, the elder lifted his head in a patronising gesture. “Speaking of roles, however – _All_  skeksis have one. Things we were born for – the Scroll Keeper and his history, the Chamberlain and his cunning ... SkekTek and his science.”

A shudder, an obvious once, attacked the boy’s frame. No, no, no. He would not think of – _that_  one.

“And that is the problem, yes? You have no role.”

“A lot of f  _empty spots_  in this place.”

Both of them started. SkekEkt looked especially alarmed, gawking broadly at SkekHdax, who had been the one to speak up. The golden-haired youth placed a candle back on the shelf, having been expecting it for it’s sent.

The girl’s shoulders and eyes could barely be seen for the long curtain of fair hair that had grown without a trim in her lifetime. Not that it was an extended period, technically...

“There were others. But that is the past.” Bitter now, SkekEkt looked away. “A lot of good things were. I do not miss them, but I’ll admit – the emptiness becomes tedious.”

“So why turn him away?” SkekHdax sneered, baffling the teal youth. “You don’t want  _me_. Could’ve  _dealt_ with _him_.”

“Perhaps, but that is not for me to decide!” Came the shrill reply. SkekEkt moved, sauntering slow and elegant towards the boy in question. SkekSept fought to keep himself bolted, but his shoulders hunched up as he drew closer. Even now, the elders seemed to tower over him and out shadow him with their bulk. “You would not do as you were bid, and that started the whole mess.” He prodded SkekSept’s beak then, and he shook away the unnerving sensation. “I should not even be  _conversing_ with you!”

“I was just – confused is all.” SkekSept tried to argue, voice cracking.

At that, SkekEkt peered down at him with a very intense _, particular_ look. “...Is that what you wish? To integrate with us  _after_  all?”

“Theo-ret-ic-ally speaking.” SkekSept began, slowly spelling out the word Augrha had said once with difficulty, trying to keep eye contact with the sharp, unforgiving gaze of the elder. SkekEkt was pompous, perhaps humorous – but he could be just as vicious as the others. He had to be careful. “If I was – one of you. What  - what would my  _role_  be?”

“Hm.” A very quiet, contemplative noise. SkekEkt tapped a long-nailed finger against the side of his beak, looking him over. “Sneaky little thing, aren’t you? You  _learn?_  Perhaps that is...something.”

It seemed he was speaking to himself now. SkekSept stole a look at the doorway, slightly worried someone would happen upon this conversation.

“Augrha said the court used to be a glorious thing.” SkekSept mumbled.

A sigh trilled from the elder’s beak, and an almost soft look of longing passed over it, “Oh, it was.” Hm. Even they admitted their grandiose power wasn’t what it used to be.  _“_ I designed many a ball-gown for the parties.”

“There were enough of you for – balls? Big parties, that is?”

“Oh, not just us.”

A darker look muddled in on the powdered face of the elder, and he turned away with a huff. “That was before! Before the Gelfling made their prophecy. But it is no matter. No matter at all.”

They all get saying that,  _burying the matter._

“Well.” Sensing he was now in a bad mood, SkekSept edged around him to began side-stepping towards the darkness, and slight safety, of the hall. SkekHdax followed on the wordless cue, sneering at the elder as she went. “We’ll just – be going.”

SkekEkt’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, shall you?”

A thin hand swiped at him.

And the two bolted for the door.

SkekEkt was not stupid – he wouldn’t chase them. But he WOULD raise the alarm – notifying all that they were here...

But leaving out their discussion, of course.


	24. Lords Not For Long - Bonus Chapters!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whatever happened to the architect? (Please pay attention to the title and notes!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (A slight note - this short was written in a slightly different timeline, where the Chamberlain was still banished - aside from that, this meeting plays out just the same! Jen and Kira Still meet the architect and their conversation plays out more or less the same, sans the Chamerblain.)

“...One of these things?”

The bog was shrouded in murk and mist, unlike the dwellings they’d left behind. The less soggy platforms of soil and moss were squishy and unpleasant to walk upon. Across this landscape, hoping from rock to rock and avoiding the water like it would burn them were two figures, each appearing very out of place.

“Watch out for those thorns!” One of them murmured suddenly, tugging the taller one away from the bank. “They cause swelling.”

“Hmm. I wonder how deep the water is.” The more masculine one said, peering at his companion from under his hood. The cold vapour was sticking to his skin unpleasantly. “If we could just plough right through, we’d be there in far less time.”

“I wouldn’t risk it Jen...” The woman replied, hopping over a rather evil looking rock. Her voice wasn’t scathing in her argument however. “This place is too empty. Something’s not right about it.”

“I heard frogs back there.” Jen noted, as if that cleared it up. He had a very simplistic view of such things, Kira would note. He was eyeing the overhanging trees above. The sky was not visible. He gave a sigh. “Well...I suppose the upside is, those creatures can’t follow us.”

Kira almost chortled at the image of a Garthim shuffling neck-deep in swamp water.

The two travelling gelflings continued onward. It had been a long while since their boat ride – and the water had grown too tangled with weeds and mossy banks to continue on. Kira and Jen wandered forth, with a fuzzy creature at the lead. Fizzgig would dive into a hole and re-emerge some yards ahead, yapping absently. All was quiet.

That is until the little creature spotted something and started barking suspiciously at it.

“Fizzgig, no!” Kira called, “Shh!” She hurried forward to quieten the creature.

Jen caught up with them quick enough. “I think whatever hears him would run in the opposite direction, not toward...”

He trailed off when he saw it.

A hovel lay in a recess in the ground, shrouded by bushes, moss, and other large swamp plants. It was a strange merger of wood and stone, with a cloth door hanging over the entrance and so windows of any sort. The two gelflings peered at in in bewilderment before sharing a look.

Kira rose up, Fizzgig huddled in her arms and shivering with furious anticipation. “I didn’t think anyone would live out this far...”

“Hmm...” Jen glanced downward. By the door were footsteps – muddy and misshapen, but they didn’t look old. “Must be, there’s prints there. Do you think –“

“Should we -?”

“There could...”

Both of their sentences faded away, then, and Jen wandered forward towards the cloth door. He lifted a hand hesitantly to his lips. “...Hello? Is someone home?” He called.

Kira approached with quiet caution. “Hello?” She called softly.

Fizzgig growled and leapt from her arms, disregarding her admonishing cry. Both gelflings tore after the fuzzy being, the cloth slipping over their heads. Jen’s senses came back to him as they skidded to a halt in a dark – or rather, he did. Kira was still moving after Fizzgig, trying to scoop him up. She was muttering hastily in her mother tongue, and finally snagged the barking ball of energy by the scruff.

All the while, Jen’s eyes were adjusting to the dark. Shelves filled with strange assortments of bone, eye and whatnot. Contraptions, a lot of scrolls; tabletops littered with paper. On them, strange drawings of squares and scribbled writing he didn’t recognise. Sketches of...buildings? “Kira...” He breathed, shakily.

Something moved in the corner. Fabric shifting, curtains pulling. Kira and Jen spun around, the darkness still holding their vision hostage. What they could see was movement, something big pulling itself upright through another doorway. Jen heard a gruff, raspy noise of annoyance.

The candles near the figure were it. Jen and Kira gasped in terror simultaneously. Because standing in the doorway was a Skeksis, eyeing them with a squinted gaze from the sloping corner. Fizzgig gasped into another frenzy of barks, trying in vain to lunge at it.  _“Jen!”_

Jen didn’t have to be told this time. He seized Kira’s hand and they made for the door. Not before he felt something swing past his head, barely missing him, and heard a voice squawk –

_“Get out, you runts!”_

Fizzgig roared shrilly as they tumbled back out into the open swamp, scrambling for their lives. Jen looked over his shoulder and saw a long but thin arm tossing an empty cup at them as they fled. Then, the owner muttered angrily and disappeared back inside.

The gelfling remained outside, staring at the flap of cloth serving as the door. They’d stopped when they realised they weren’t going to be followed. Jen and Kira shared a dumb strung look as Fizzgig continued to growl.

“That...Jen, that wasn’t the same one, was it?”

“...No...” This one spoke fluently enough, and without a mewling tone.

From inside the dwelling the voice came again.

“Same one? Same one! You imply that there’s another skeksis wandering around the wilderness?” Sarcasm was clear in this one’s voice. Jen didn’t know why he was still speaking to him, but continued anyway, defensiveness swelling in his chest.

“There is! He tried to trick us into coming back with him!”

“I don’t understand.” Kira said quietly. She’d turned away from the hollow, holding Fizzgig tighter in her arms. “Why would there be Skeksis outside the castle?”

A loud, sardonic huff from inside the dwelling was her answer. Jen was reminded ironically of Aughra.  “Run along, little gelfling. It’s not like you’ll make it to that dratted palace anyway!”

“Why...why not?” Was there some legit warning there, or something else?

“Pfft! If you brats are going to talk to me, you’d better come back in.”

“You’ll try to take us back there, just like the other one did!” Kira’s voice rose, bitter and bubbling, unusually loud as she retorted. The skeksis inside laughed shrilly. He had a trill voice, and curt, sharp hitches and huffs seemed to be a tick of his.

“I’m not harking my backside back with you two under either arm! Do you think I’m that ambitious? I’m reckless, yes, but not a fool! Whoever tried to drag you off  _clearly_  didn’t think things through.”

Even Fizzgig seemed to pause as he gelfings weighed their options. “...Perhaps he knows how to get there. We’re lost, in a way.”

“Jen,” Kira said, nearly aghast, “We can’t –“

“Trust them, obviously.” Jen confirmed quickly. “But I think we should know why there’s more than one out here. What we’re dealing with.”

Kira pressed her lips together fretfully.

But, eventually, both gelflings ventured back into the dwelling. Candles were lit in every surface now; the paper sketches far more visible. One Jen recognised as...Augrah’s house. It looked old. A pang of guilt moseyed up Jen’s ribs as he surveyed the place.

Kira suppressed a gasp from beside him upon seeing the skeksis in full view. His clothing was plain, even a bit shabby – but not rags. He was skinnier, but not shorter, than the humming one they’d escaped. His skin and feathers may have been green and purple, once, his hair perhaps brown like his bloodshot eyes, but it was hard to tell. He was unkempt and his beak looked crooked at the end, even painful to bear. His nails were gnarly and his elbows sharp. His shawls and cloths hung about him in drapes.

He was mulling around, snatching charcoal pencils off surfaces and flinging large sheets of parchment over the table nearby. He eyed them both with sharp eyes and an irritated look.

“What are these odd markings?” Kira, despite her complete misgivings, was peering at the papers. Jen glanced at them, too, but saw no pattern he recognised. Lots of squares and diagrams, however. They almost looked like –

“Old plans and diagrams of the palace. Don’t you gelfling know architecture when you see it?” The skeksis scoffed, snatching the papers away from their view in a fell swoop. The two backed off a step.

“Architecture?” Jen echoed, sounding far too perplexed for his own good. “You mean like...like building?” Slight wonder.

The skeksis eyed him disdainfully, though a smirk coiled at his beak. “I suppose you’re thinking of  _UrSot_ , yes? Silly old fool, probably built you dollhouses, gelfing.” He sneered and tossed the scrolls into a small basket nearby with surprising accuracy. “No! Architecture goes into the layout of complex building, the plans of every nook and cranny. Every modification.” He snickered bitterly to himself and ambled to some shelves nearby, all but snatching some utensils up.

“You...built the castle?” Kina began hesitantly, as if prodding too hard with voice alone could incite another snap. The skeksis snorted.

“No. Modified.”

“But you know the layout?” Jen pressed. The skeksis paused, a ruler shoved under one arm, a strange measuring tape rolled up in the other. He eyed them both suspiciously.

“Why would I tell you about that, gelfling?”

“Why haven’t you attacked us, if you’re a skeksis?” Jen felt unease bubble in his stomach at the repeat of such a question, and he almost dreaded the answer. The skeksis rolled his eyes and slammed the cupboard shut – loud enough to make them start.

“Because you’ll never succeed in that little prophecy of yours! I doubt it really meant anything, and even then, you’ll be dead the moment you set within eye sights of that castle! And I’ve no desire to return to those cracked bats either.”

That sounded rather forced at the end, but the other sentiments weren’t.

Jen and Kira were silent for a moment, then –

“Who was the other skeksis you claim to have run into?” The architect drawled, eyeing the shelves rather than them. It occurred to Jen that he hadn’t a clue what the rag-wearing sneak was called.

“Well, he didn’t say.” He felt rather silly.

“Hmph.”

“But,” Kira stepped forward, cautiously, “He made a funny sound.”

The skeksis’s head jerked a little, his yellow-brown eyes latching onto them with startling intensity. “Sound?”

“Like...like a hum. As if...er...” Jen remembered all right, it sent his skin crawling.

“A whimper.” Kira affirmed suddenly, the word coming to her at last. The skeksis stared at them for two more seconds.

Then he threw back his head and  _cackled._

It was almost hysterical, the way he laughed. And he moved faster than his shuffling body should’ve been able to, swinging away from the shelves and almost doubling over; one hand over his eyes. “The Chamberlain!” He shrieked with ecstatic glee. “Oooh, this is too much!”

He leant against the counter and hollered with laughter, while the two gelfling slowly backed away from them, edging together until their shoulders bumped together. They stared at him in growing concern.

Finally, the skeksis straightened up and heaved in a breath, wiping a tear from his eye. “That is gold.  _Affluent,_  I dare say!”

“Chamberlain?” Kira murmured quietly.

“SkekSil, to be exact.” The skeksis sneered, plopping down in a chair by the table, his smirk hideously wide. “Mewling old wretch, that one, always scheming. Take it you almost fell of it?”

Jen tried not to blink and failed. The skeksis cackled again, but thankfully this time it was low and brief. “Many a gelfling has been lulled by his ‘humble’ bent head. He would’ve led you to the slaughter by the pinkie.”

“He said he was an outcast.” Kira mentioned. The skeksis rolled his eyes,

“Putting it mildly – he must have been tossed out, banished, like I was. We’re both in disgrace! And if he went through a trial by stone...then that pompous Skekso must be dead.” The skeksis’ eyes narrowed.

Jen and Kira had no clue of what a ‘trial by stone’ was, nor who ‘SkekSo’ had been.

“So who are you?” Jen found himself asking, now that the threat of harm seemed...less so. The skeksis huffed curtly, spreading out his scroll and swiping several long, sharp lines of ink across the parchment.

“SkekSik.” It sounded oddly like Skek- _Seek._ “The former Skeksis Architect.”

Still at his plans, though, Jen noted. He decided not to voice this. “So why aren’t you with them?”

“I was banished because a certain hot-shot decided I’d made a bit too many transgressions.” SkekSik eyed him pointedly. “I was on thin ice to begin with, and why is none of your business. Anyhow, SkekSo is probably dead at this point, so I couldn’t care. Though... Chamberlain.” his grin returned, “I’d love to see his sorry mug again after all this.”

“Do  _all_ skeksis hate each other?” Jen asked. It was completely on impulse.

The old being before them leaned back, snaking a hand over their sparse scalp. “Quite so.” He seemed to be in a good mood over his fellow’s less-than happy luck. Jen flexed out his fingers, “And speaking of other skeksis, he won’t have given up. In fact...”

Suddenly, whatever thought he’d been smugly explaining seemed to dawn on him in a double-take, and his smirk vanished as his eyes slowly grew wide. “...Ah. Well then, little gelfling.” He stood up, smirking nicely – which made the two scurry back. Perhaps that was his intent. “It’s time for you to be off, no?”

Kira all but seized Jen’s arm, tugging him back. “Yes! We’re going.”

“We’ll go.” Jen added, stumbling a tad. The dwelling was thrown into light as they opened the curtain door. “Um, goodbye!”

Jen did not know what to think of this strange, scruff man living in the swamps, nor his intentions. He’d only let them be because he knew his skinny self had no chance to overpowering them both. He didn’t want to think of what would’ve happened if that had been possible.

The two hastily sprinted down the bogs, peering over their shoulder in case he followed. He did, but only to the entrance of his dwelling, watching them go with only mild interest. Unbeknownst to them, his mind was one someone else.

....

 loud, echoing splash resonated through the bog.

The only thing good about these powers-that-be forsaken rags was that in this climate, they let him blend in nicely. The figure was tall but oddly stooped, and shuffled along at a steady but uneven pace. It stumbled now and again. Hence the ungodly noise. Around him, several chirping insects went silent as if to listen for some inherent danger, but upon finding none the ambience of noise resumed. The skeksis huffed bitterly and pulled himself up. Had he any lips, he’d almost be pouting in an immature manner.

With a short and flustered hum, the Chamberlain continued his stalking along the bogs. The footsteps he was tracking were rather obvious, and he was no real tracker. The larger gelfling – the male- left more obvious footprints in the muck. Clearly he’d have no chance with that dratted girl steering him right. If not for her, he’d be back at the palace right now with a gelfling ticket in tow...

With a pronounced whine of discontent, SkekSil ambled forward. He barely missed stepping on a small grubby creature and he gave an’ hmph’ of disdain. Foul place. If he had his way, it would be burnt to ash and the charcoal would be used in a fine script of how much he loathed his current situation.

Once again, he found his thoughts trespassing into loathsome monologues over his former colleagues. That SkekUng, vicious, slobbering beast. He won by muscle alone, and you couldn’t rule or even  _co-rule_  with muscle alone! The Chamberlain took bitter satisfaction in the idea that he’d be poor – no – abhorrent at the job. The others would be giving themselves a proverbial kick. If he ever came across an UrRu, he’d be sure to give them a good hit and pray it just happened to be the  _General’s_ counterpart...

“Mmmm.”

He moved past a large cluster of earth to the right side, and he took care to avoid the moss. This place reeked of decay and...

A pair of arms silently rose up from behind him to either side of his head, and the Chamberlain felt something grab him and yank him backwards. With a horrified squawk, he tried to claw at the limbs of his attacker, but he’d suddenly plunged into darkness and his eyes just hadn’t had the time to adjust. The frenzied skeksis cried out several unintelligible noises of abuse, and if he were to die at that moment it would  _not_  be with dignity.

He swung violently, if off-balanced, at his captor, and felt a thrill of satisfaction when he heard a hiss of pain. It was then that he saw the creature clasping him by the forearms was actually a tad shorter than himself, and just as stooped – in fact the shape was very, very familiar.

The Chamberlain’s voice was but a strangled, vicious yelp as shock sized his lungs _. “You!”_

“Careful, Chamberlain. Wouldn’t want to lose that nice voice of yours.” Came the snarky, but irritated reply.

Before him, in clothing just barely less shabby than his own, was a skeksis. What little time he’d spent without the Crystal’s light and weekly podling essence had taken its tole already, in a few short years his hair had grown white and his frame even spindlier than before. But the scruffy fool wasn’t dead yet, and strong enough to tug another of his kind into...where was he?

Indignant, the Chamberlain surveyed the dwelling – littered with counters and cluttered drawers. He rounded in SkekSik with an air of disdain, “What were you thinking, Mmm? Pulling me in here in such a manner?! How dare-?”

A weight slammed into him and he found his back pressed onto one of the counters, something sharp and cold just  _slightly_ digging into the underside of his throat. The Chamberlain gave an audible gulp as SkekSik hovered over him, one elbow crushing down on his chest. “HmmM!”

“Shut it, you half-wit. You’re lucky I don’t cut out your whining tongue.”

“You are mad!” Came the shrill reply.

“And kicking.” With great finesse, SkekSik drew away, throwing his arms casually into the air as he sauntered off, putting gracious space between the two. “You have no idea how ‘thrilled’ I was upon haring you were coming, Chamberlain.” SkekSil, with a shaky limb, traced the undersized of his jaw uneasily before focusing his appalled stare upon his former colleague.

He hadn’t spared SkekSik the Architect a second thought since his departure some years ago. The short years hadn’t been kind, obviously. The Chamberlain had felt no sorrow at his departure but no amount of glee, either, he’d have taken SkekUng or SkekTek’s any day over his. Still, he was no friend, and their grievances against each other in the past were high.

The architect, once, had jurisdiction over all areas of the castle, second to the Emperor himself. That had put him at odds with his fellow skeksis; he’d had a swell time choosing who to favour and who to snub when it came to quarters and wings.

 _How_  had he survived all this time?

SkekSik turned to return the stare, sneering smugly. “I know your little plan, too. Quite dazzling. You honestly thought you could drag two full-grown gelfing back to the castle? Old popinjay.”

“The plan was deception of the most diplomatic degree!” SkekSil said with a highly indignant hum, “Hmm! You would not know...”

SkekSik watched comprehension dawn on the Chamberlain’s face with narrow eyes and a horribly ugly smirk. “How... could you know such a thing?”

If he hadn’t been a better skeksis, the smug, slimy smile the former architect was wearing would’ve frightened him. In the dim light and murky air, the glint in his eye was positively vicious.

“Oh, I heard it from a pass-by.” The other crooned, and suddenly SkekSil would have loved nothing more than to me miles away from him again.

But then, the true weight of SkekSik’s words reached him. His eyes narrowed. “What do you imply, you slimy fiend?”

“The gelfling came traipsing by.”

It took a few moments for this abashed statement to sink into the Chamberlains brain. Then, the other skeksis felt what little fur and feather he had bristle in disbelief. “You! You simply let them pass?! The last two gelfling who could end us?!”

His voice was but a screech toward the end of the sentence, and he’d thrown out his arms in earnest. As always his shrill voice made his fury seem stretched and humorous, but he felt anything but the contrary.

He went off in a short but red-tongued rant. Most of it was unintelligible, but it varied along the lines of ‘how dare you’ and ‘has the lack of crystal light made you got senile after all’ and several choice words that daren’t be uttered even in the private corners of one’s mind.

Then, SkekSik seized the Chamberlain by the beak, effectively shutting it and holding it in place, thin fingers gelfling into the hard surface. SkekSil was disgusted at this invasion of his person and personal space. How dare he? loathsome, scruffy creature –

“Spare me your jabbering, Chamberlain.” He no longer held that title, but SkekSik found old habits died hard. He lifted his beak offhandedly, “Ponder for a while, could you have dragged both of those hideous little creatures all the way back to the castle?”

“You let them wander right past your doorstep!” SkekSil retorted in a thin, hateful hum. “Hmm! You could have sealed out fate right then and there!”

“Pfft.” The architect rolled his eyes, eerily fluid for someone so rickety. “Do not act so rambunctious, Chamberlain – you were quivering with fright when I dragged you into this dwelling, your bravado will not fool me.”

SkekSil gave a sharp huff. Loathing practically radiated off his thin shoulders. “You would not have killed me, it was momentary surprise! Skeksis may banish and punish, but they do not slay one another. You know that.”

At that, SkekSik grinned.

“Oh, but Chamberlain.” He noted pleasantly. “We are no longer under that law.”

A pin could have dropped onto a wool blanket and you would have heard it. SkekSil gawked stupidly at him for a moment. For a moment. He was lost in that second, perhaps disturbed – but then clarity sank on him in a low, heavy wave, and with it his smirk and ever-hooded lids. “Ah.” He croaked, smoothly, watching as SkekSik’s viciously smug expression twitched a bit. “But you have been away from the essence and the crystal for far longer, old friend. My, you look as thin as a twig. Should you try to even poke me with a knife, how shall I help you return to the castle?”

SkekSik’s eyes narrowed, and not at all smugly this time. “Two gelfling, two of us?”

“It seems fair, and even _fated_.” SkekSil trilled.

“We are to be friends, it would be?” That wasn’t a real question. That was a statement in a sentence with every single word masked.

SkekSil laughed, a shrill, quiet thing. “Indeed. We should be at peace, me and you.”

SkekSik could have corrected him with ‘You and I’ and make a comment, but instead he let his face go blank as it always did, when another skeksis was trying to sway him.

“...Very well, Chamberlain. I shall listen.”


	25. Time To Choose A Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Politics.

SkekEkt confided in the Gourmand, of course. And then, after some assured calculation, they sought out the Chamberlain.

And were surprised – thus affronted – to find he already knew. Standing there in one of the disused dinner halls (now the Choir Rehearsal; with small pyres stacked up in semi-circles around them, and twisted candle-holders protruding from the walls) SkekEkt was eyeing the Chamberlain with clear ire, appalled at such deception – however much he claimed he’d been going to tell them.

SkekAyuk kept glancing at the hallway arch – drat it, did the architect _insist_  on every chamber having no door? Aesthetics be damned.

“But what are we to do about it?” SkekAyuk mumbled, as the three of them leaned in to conspire – speak that is. “The Emperor shall not accept this!”

“Even SkekUng must see the vote of the majority.” SkekSil crooned, smoothing back the scraggly hairs sporting from the back of his head, “He cannot refuse us all.”

“But what then?” SkeEkt was surprised at himself for even considering this! But alas – “We bring the others to our side? How?”

“The boy shall win them over, he must. Otherwise it’ll be his head that rolls and not ours.” SkekSil’s eyes trailed away from them, at that moment – to another, smaller corridor leading in from the far right. The Ornamentalist and Gourmand followed his stare –

Peeking into the chamber, as timid and out-of-place as a hatchling sneaking down a new branch, was the waif himself.

What a tenuous situation. Instinctively, by mere habit, SkekAyuk and SkekEkt were ready to holler – but forced themselves to be still, and they resorted to simple glares, laden with suspicion, as the young skeksis cautiously approached them. Like an ant approaching a nebrie.

SkekSil, indeed, appeared to be the only one at ease in here.

That is, until, the other one materialised from the darkness a few yards behind SkekSept. All three of the elders scooted back a little, as if some tide had come running at their feet. But the pale-haired brute remained some ways back; allowing SkekSept to wander closer, his shoulders hunched and tension making his body rigid.

Content the ugly brat could not see them, SkekEkt and SkekAyuk shared a derisive glance.

So, they had reached it; the point of no return – they were not content with the General’s rule, not at all – and yes… this peril, this subdued worry – however unpleasant it was, deep down, far down, the frail reptilians craved it. Finally, after so many years – intrigue.

A plot worthwhile.

…

This was insanity. This was madness. This was an absolutely folly. And yet SkekSept felt strangely in  _place_ , like something had clicked within his mind’s eye; this was the path, this was what he had to do. SkekSil, slimy old oaf – he was all  _for_  them joining.

Well. Him joining.

SkekHdax was hovering – or prowling – behind him, focused on every twitch and breath no doubt. The Gourmand and SkekEkt had fixed him with wary stares, but he had seen them so many times now – they were no longer unfamiliar.

Once again he saw disdain flash on the latter’s face at the style of his clothes.

“Hullo.” He ventured awkwardly.

Apparently that was wrong. SkekSil smirked mean-spiritedly, apparently amused – while the other two didn’t look impressed.

“He is doomed.” SkekAyuk attested plainly. The boy scowled at him – and was promptly sneered at.

Learned responses are fickle. Some part of SkekSept was still afraid of them, their tall, mangled figures and eerie teeth. He drew back a little, the feathers poking from his back rising in agitation. He may have backed down, but SkekHdax did not take kindly to that at all.

“You will be.” She returned, and SkekEkt flinched as if the girl had stalked over and slapped him herself.

“What is it you wish to gain?” SkekAyuk blustered at last, apparently unable to contain his ire. SkekSept tried to keep his face placid. If he faltered, if he spoke too rash, these fickle fiends could bring the proverbial ceiling down on their heads.

“I belong here.” He wished he believed it himself, “And – and like it or not, you need me. There’s not many of you left, is there? What do you all have if not the other skeksis?”

Appealing to such things was contrived and risky. But again, an unpleasant truth.

SkekSil trilled to himself, with an odd mix of amusement and disdain on his beak; “We recently lost our architect to his own folly. Our numbers decrease.”

So in other words, I’m right. SkekSil wasn’t inept enough to say this out loud.

But he drew no response from SkekAyuk or SkekEkt. Fear, and unease picked at his narrow ribs, for he needed to catch their attention with something.

Flattery was an old trick, even the boy could see that – these creatures had probably long since learned that a compliment from a fellow skeksis was empty.

 _But I am young,_  said a conniving, chilling thought in SkekSept’s ear. One that startled him in its potency.  _They may think I’m genuine. They see me as a foolish knave, naive, they don’t think I can **lie.**_

All of these thoughts seared through his head in about ten seconds, and his mind was made before he had much say.

“You two – Ornamentalist, Gourmand,” He said, earnest tone wavering – in a way he hoped they’d simply chalk to nerves, “Are the only ones I dared approach. The others  - either they’re brutes, or too set in their ways. You are both … the creative ones. The makers. I want to create myself.”

His last words trailed off, he gripped at his own arm and barely managed to meet their gazes, but he saw  _something_  flicker in their eyes.

Something.

He knew that that he’d plucked the right strings.

Then, with a thin finger and sharp, unblinking stare, SkekEkt gestured him forward; nail curling.

SkekEkt approached; the feathers lining his back appendages rising in trepidation. SkekEkt leaned in, ever the conspirator, and SkekAyuk followed suit;

“And what of your … rugged friend? She has no chance, sweetling. Doesn’t want to try.”

It was with sharp disdain that he eyed SkekHdax hovering around the pillars; who seemed to sense the focus shifting to her; her teeth caught the dim torchlight as she sneered.

“… SkekHdax just wants to protect me. She’s … going to remain in the shadows.”

“A personal enforcer? How droll.” SkekAyuk remarked, apparently thinking she couldn’t hear him.

SkekSept shook his head, “Look.”

Their eyes bore into him; his sharp tone was not appreciated. But he pressed on. “… I wouldn’t … presume to bother you if I –“

SkekSil loomed in the corner of his eye, humming blandly.

“ _We_ didn’t think it was … mutually beneficial. If you help me, I’ll be indebted. Forever.”

Ah, magic, _sorcery_  in those words. For the Ornamentals and Gourmand slowly shared a look of brazen shock that melted, moulded into something downright conniving.

SkekSept found himself reassured, and terrified, by their smirks.

…

The plan was simple. Trivial. Seek out those of reason and convince them.

The skeksis were bored.

Even if they didn’t  _agree_ , they’d ‘agree’ anyway.

…

The easiest target was the Treasurer; not very involved with anyone else’s affairs, too busy and marioneted in his own. He was stacking coins with meticulous precision when SkekEkt glided in with a flutter, a gleam in his eye that had not been so sharp in years.

“SkekShod.”

His hand paused over the coins,

“… What is it you want, Ornamentalist?” He didn’t give the same courtesy of using his name. A purposeful snub, but if SkekEkt noticed, he didn’t let on;

Twirling a grey lock around a claw-like finger, the Ornamentalist didn’t bother chewing his words,

“A most intriguing opportunity, my friend, has arrived. An _investmen_ t if you will.”

Magic words; SkekShod’s interest piqued, but still playing the verbal waltz, he said nothing and simply let his stare continue unblinking.

“The young thing has returned, practically begging upon his knees to join our ranks.”

Ah. That was unexpected; SkekShod’s brows flew up, and for once he appeared more alert; snapping away from his counting haze entirely.

“In – in here?” His husky voice had difficulty announcing his shock. “At this moment?”

“Yes, treasurer. Now heed this…”

…

It occurred to SkekSept that a lot of this fiendish plan came from SkekHdax. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and irony was one of the things he’d had trouble understanding to begin with. She was sitting upon some old rubble in the abandoned wings – the boy had hoped they wouldn’t be back here, but now with candles scattered about to illuminate the Hunter’s old trophy wall, where they’d snagged their respective skull and arm-guards, SkekSept felt a tad more at ease.

They had a handle on the situation. Whatever that situation was.

SkekHdax was holding four stones; she’d brushed and fidgeted with them so much they’d rounded into pebbles. She’d tilt her hand and let one slip through the small opening between her finger and thumb. It made a ‘click, click, click’ sound, and the steady repeat hinted at concentration.

Sometimes he longed to know what she was thinking.

Alas, there was a barrier between them. It wasn’t like with UrSaat.

And yet SkekSept couldn’t possible imagine dwelling without her at his side; but then he also could barely  _bear_  to miss his friend. The comfort of talking about small things, discussing stars, and people, and opinions. UrSaat was very opinionated for an UrRu.

He needed them both and yet they could not comply with eachother.

Why…?

_Unbeknownst, far away, UrSaat was using rounded pebbles, their surfaces carved with mystic symbols, to try and make sense of his torn memories, a ceremony to prompt thought. Click, click, click._

SkekSept wandered towards the trophy collection again; the wall went up so high the top shelf was but a blur. The largest skull looked small due to the perspective –

His arm was snatched.

A hitched breath. SkekHdax had pulled herself out of her quiet ruminating and seized his arm. SkekSept let the panic, always bubbling near the surface, sink away. “SkekHdax…?”

“When all is said and done.” She rasped, low and vitriolic, “We  _kill_  the Chamberlain.”  

SkekSept’s brows had risen his head. Moments passed, and a frown sank into his young, teal features.

It should have scared him, the way this suggestion _didn’t_  bother him.

“He would have killed us.” He said with voice still soft and hoarse. And a phantom twinkle of pain on the back of his head.

“He still would.”

A pause.

“When all is said and done.” SkekSept echoed gently. A confirmation in his repeat.

SkekHdax  _smiled._


	26. Love Theme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SkekSept has won over some of the elders.  
> Two hearts shattered; could the pieces retain the sentiment?

SkekSept wasn’t all too pleased with his garments, at first. Though he despised the texture and restrictive frilly pull on his arms and neck, he did find himself catching side-glimpses of himself in reflective surfaces, and finding there was a nice singing feeling in his rib-bones, that he couldn’t quite describe beyond that.

The Ornamentalist, ever fickle and experimenting, had changed the youth’s appearance - without much bearing on the boy’s preferences - several times.

The early purple garment and sash was too plain; simply letting his hair hang in ringlets too loose and trivial.

His words, not SkekSept’s.

And thus they were here again, in front of a mirror with rather intimidating claw-based frames, as SkekEkt yanked his hair back into the intricate bun - which was quickly becoming the younger’s signature hair-style. The braided bun, finished with two long, silvery pins, remained constant.

A layered, silver, conical garment clung to SkekSept’s neck, trailing down to his elbows, to clasp with its hems at his limbs like wings. A gradual gradient of silver to dark green followed; less bulky and grand that his elders; a show of his status.

But today, strangely, SkekEkt insisted on that ‘paint for your face’.

The colours were set out beside them as the Ornamentalist hummed and hawed, long fingers moving to the silver - a colour SkekSept was getting far too familiar with.

In the palette, however, he saw others. Bright reds that made him shudder, a blue that invoked disdain due to the trickle of it he saw on the Chamerlain -

And, a gold. Oddly like -

“Why can’t I have gold?” While complaints were never scarce, such a statement was few and far between; enough to surprise the Ornamentalist into pause.

The youth hadn’t seemed so keen before, to embellish himself. “Silver suits your plumage far more appealingly.”

“I like gold. It’s like SkekHdax’s hair.”

SkekSept did not see SkekEkt pause, nor how his head oh-so slowly turned to stare at him - as he fiddled with the edge of his sleeve collar, oblivious.

SkekHdax tittered pointedly, before his thin fingers plucked up the brush coated in golden paint.

….

A snarl drifted from the Collector’s old chamber. Oh, how he loathed the old, vacant wings - and how he longed for them to be cleaned. After all, SkekEkt mused, if they had the gall to exist and remind them of their old companion’s folly, at least they could look presentable doing it.

Ah, well. He digressed.

Part of him mildly thought about the danger in such a venture - and many assumed him cowardly when alone.

But he was quite confident in this little escapade, quite confident indeed.

The snarl was not borne from him, but the creature dwelling on the stone slab in the bed chamber; where a feather mattress had once been, and the Collector’s gawdy old sheets. Long gone now.

SkekEkt paused by the door, careful not too scowl too deeply so as not to appear unbecoming - the golden haired skeksis inside, growing so tall and broad-shouldered already that she eclipsed her fellow youngster, as well as a few of the court, was tugging at an old comb lodged in their mane.

Silly beast.

“You will not win that battle, dear.” He commented, voice all clippy, and SkekHdax - that was the name yes? Rough and uncouth like them. Her, as the boy said.

“What d’you want?”

“What  _do I_ want. Hm, perhaps an experiment, so to speak. Satisfy one’s curiosity. Even you can appreciate that, no?”

There was no answer - but no rebuke either from her so, with a smug lift of the beak, The Ornamentalist slid further into the room.

“Perhaps a peace offering, as well - freeing that mane of yours from that comb.”

SkekHdax’s lip pulled back in a sneer. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Hmph, not at all, leap-frogling, but it is part of the game. One day that SkekSept truly ought to explain irony to you.”

Wtih a huff, Skekhdax strangely let him approach. Perhaps she knew the Ornamentalist was absolutely no match for her - indeed, she’d been lurking close and out of hiding near the skeksis much more nowadays, brazingly in fact. Perhaps they were all getting a bit too cosy with each other…

With a deft hand, SkekEkt freed the comb from the tangles, surprised the find the mane not as filthy as he’d expected - but a still tangled enough to make a crow’s nest envious.

“You truly have potential to be a beautiful thing, you know.” SkekEkt drawled - with envy that he probably denied existed.

“I am blind. Can’t seem myself, can I?”

Ah.

With great care, SkekEkt slid closer, and with such confidence and control of the situation, too; the bearing of someone carrying something very, very valuable.

One arm stretched out, aware, very aware, that SkekHdax was focused on him and ready to bite; said arm came to hover around them, like a very aloof shoulder- hug.

And he leaned in to mutter, as if they weren’t in a completely deserted wing.

“Ah, indeed, you don’t - but SkekSept can see you.”

There it was, the comment, the thing hanging over them, and it slid into place so well it was almost visible; a piece in a board game and SkekEkt continued, voice thin, veiled with malice, mock endearment and excitement over opportunities -

“And you know what else? He selected a colour to where on his very eyelids, golden just like you he says.”

SkekHdax’s hand rose to slide along her hair; absent, and no emotion present on their bronze and bold face. “... Am I golden?”

“Yes indeed. And he is dark.” SkekEkt withdrew then, hands together and eyes hooded, satisfied he’d made his point.

“I know what he -”

That sentence would halt, and grow silent - SkekEkt couldn’t fathom the reason, perhaps realising the falsehood. After all, she’d been struck blind since their parting. How would she know what the other looked like?

SkekHdax seemed almost humbled, and abruptly displaced by her own realisation, and closed her beak.  
  
In turn, SkekEkt extended his hands out, as if to say 'so there we have it,' smiles so strong it made his eyes scrunch out and just about twinkle. "It is something to think about, dear heart. Linger out in the dark and dirt if you wish, but cast a thought to him."  
  
And with that, he took his leave.  
  


...

_SkekHdax remembered what someone looked like._

_Someone._


	27. Harsh And Twisted Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to remember.

_“You’ll need this, waif!”_

_SkekSept ducked as Augrah thrust something at him. Old habits are droll. Oh dear, what manner of ill-natured thing had she bestowed on him?_

_The young skeksis dared a peak and found himself ogling something rather … shiny. A broach, plain in make but clearly made of riches; the design needn’t be extravagant when the material was so rare._

_“… What is it for?”_

_“They should remain you ‘question’ eh?” Augrah leered from somewhere. He could pry his eyes away from the thing hovering in his face._

…

The stones weren’t a tried and true method. But UrSaat felt something. Not quite restlessness. Things like feelings couldn’t puncture the fog in his soul. It was both sheltering, and a tad frustrating – or as close to frustrating as a thing could get for a Mystic.

Jen’s pipe carried over with the brewing storm. Mingling with the growing winds, not a calm but a rumbling aria. It felt as though the weather was stalling.

UrOnze seemed content to ignore the tremor in the skies and was idly strumming the harp the musician had made for him. A familiar three-note trill, the same one that had made his counterpart shudder.

_I know that song. The song that called._

He let the small stones, rounded and marked, slide through the space in his fist like sand through an hourglass, one by one onto the ground to fall where they may.

You couldn’t count on the face they fell, but you could control from which spot they fell.

One’s attacks could be from different branches.

Click. Click. Click. The stones fell. UrSaat could not see them. His last traipse to the castle had used up the energy of his youth, it seemed, for an UrRu only acts when the time is right. It is impossible otherwise.

_When all is said and done, my friend. I know you will return._

_…_

SkekSil was a little perturbed.

The boy had come again into his plans, this time by his own choice – or so he’d presented it that way. There was no other path; he had to integrate or rot out in the wastes of this world. But drat it all, it would have been easier if he’d snared his trust beforehand.

If only the youth could see that ridding himself of the blind one – both blind ones, UrRu and Skeksis alike, had been the  _wisest_  thing for him. How he’d damaged his chances with that … attachment. That attack on him when he first brought him back to the castle – none of it would have been necessary, if the blind UrRu hadn’t been then to counter SkekSil’s assurances and honeyed words.

And now this _SkekHdax_  was growing too talkative for his liking. At their birth, all skeksis had been rather … primitive. Raw. More entuned with nature.

(They hadn’t even worn anything, sans ornamental wings and head-dresses, taken from rare animals.) The sight of SkekHdax, though scruffier, brought memories of even earlier times.

But though SkekSept had skipped that stage … perhaps the golden youth was finally shedding some of that feral behaviour. Some of it.

Boggled in the head, that one! SkekSil ran a hand down his collar in thought. SkekOk was nearby, scribbling incessantly. He had been one of the most difficult to convince – especially after the stunt the two had pulled.

SkekSil’s eye happened to trail to the left, where the dark corridors lay.

And the sheen of a pair of eyes twinkled back at him. Fright streaked through his veins, but when he blinked, the eyes were gone.

He stood still for a moment, in thought. Couldn’t be the blind one. Who on earth was skulking?

…

SkekSept moved through the darkened hall, listening to his footsteps echo, and bounce to greet him again. They were about the kindest thing in here.

He felt rather mellow; the mild fear that always seemed present on his skin was going number by the day. Was that a bad thing? Perhaps. One shouldn’t get too comfortable.

He paused.

Why had he stopped? There were bumps along his skin, and the cold in the hall seemed too crisp.  Hm. Maybe UrOnze felt chilly…

But even as he waited for the feeling to subside, he couldn’t shake the inkling that something was wrong.

Down the hall, something moved.

SkekSept’s heart leaped in his chest. It had been a month or so since his last bad shock – he hated the feeling of blood rushing around his body, yet his frame being unable to move.

It …  _looked_ like someone was poking their head around the corner.

Then, as if by some strange trance, he found himself moving forward. Further in. To the deeper regions of the castle again, where the dank smell turned fowl.

He wandered through maze-like halls and noticed an incline in the floor – going down.

He wasn’t moving fast. In fact, he was going slower than he’d thought possible. What was he doing, he thought to himself with ire. Moseying around like this, it was silly.

“And here I thought you had some  _sense_.”

An unfamiliar voice rang out from the left. SkekSept jolted on the spot, swerving to see who it was – but only the dark answered.

No. Wait. He could see a shape; the reflection of the light on the rocks from the previous halls let him see it.

And a pair of eyes were gleaming in the shadows.

On cue, the creature stepped forward. The staff came first – a large wooden branch moulded haphazardly into a walking cane, grasped by thin, skeletal fingers.

Then the beak, hooked painfully at the end and completely unique – it wasn’t one of the elders. That he knew.

The skeksis was small, and bony, and his skin and whips of hair were whiter than anything the youth had ever seen. Yet his gaze was clear; his entire bearing … sharp. His robes mere rags, worse so than the Chamberlain’s had ever been.

“… who … who  _are_  you?” SkekSept breathed.

The malformed beak curled into a smirk as the unfamiliar skeksis cocked his head.

“Look at you. As clueless as the rest of them.”

SkekSept moved back.

The stranger laughed, a halting, harsh thing. “My name is  _SkekSik._ And I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time, little seven.”

“You’re one of the dead.” The words came unprompted.

“Oh, they’d have me so if they could. Your deer Chamberlain must’ve wormed his way back in with you on his arm. You really believe you can trust him?”

“I don’t! You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

SkekSept didn’t like this stranger.

Something about him reeked of danger, malice, and cunning.

“Don’t be obtuse. There’s far more t work here than your revenge.” SkekSik’s laugh make a comeback – SkekSept’s shock and fury must had been apparent on his face – “Oh yes, I could guess your reasons for being here. You’re a skeksis, after all. You wouldn’t just let what that mewling oaf did to you go.”

“How did you …”

“A little bird told me.”

Silence. SkekSept failed to see how small birds could –

With a long-suffering sigh, SkekSik rolled his eyes, “A figure of speech. I have my ways of keeping an eye on you lot.”

Oh, again with the omnipresent people.

“That aside. I suppose I’m hear to warn you.” The pale skeksis leaned back, both hands placed on the cane. The other narrowed his eyes,

“Warn me? You did mention something about … something else going on.”

“Hm-hm. The stars are moving. The suns align. Augrah is growing more inane by the day. And … well, we both know about the gelfling.”

Another jolt of shock, this time waved away by SkekSik’s dismissive hand, “Don’t prostrate yourself; I’ve known for little over a year now, and haven’t went shrieking to the Court.”

… He hadn’t?

“You could’ve earned your place back.” SkekSept voiced that thought aloud, “Why didn’t you?”

For that, SkekSik didn’t answer, but kept his wry smirk in place. “Never mind that. I am here because the course of history has been changed … for us. I do not have time to explain the idea of time and space and lives lived elsewhere, but I will point this out – you two weren’t supposed to be here. Things will right themselves.”

SkekSept was suddenly aware of his heartbeat, beating, beating. “… what is going to happen?”

“You can’t stop it.”

SkekSik stepped forward; the clunk of his cane like a drum; final and loud as he came to stop right before SkekSept, so their eyes locked with horrible intensity.

The smile was gone.

Now was a time for bluntness.

“When it does, do not fight. But I doubt you will. You will know in your soul – in half of your soul – what is about to occur.”

SkekSept searched the elder’s face for some kind of clarity, and found none. He was bewildered, frightened, yet he sensed no lie.

SkekSik cocked his head, voice lowering. “Now. Pop down to the sewers. Might want to leave your pretty clothes in your room. I’m sure you’ll be surprised.”

And the old man moved back, and into the dark again, leaving SkekSept with precarious information in his hands.

….

SkekSept loathed being lead along by others than this.

But it was new to have a choice. SkekSik knew as much. He could tell the elders. The Emperor. He could further his status, and turn the old man in, and stop whatever he was cooking up. Ignore his ramblings, continue their plot – and get revenge on the Chamberlain.

Or.

He could remember the UrRU. And Jen.

Jen.

SkekSept pulled his lace over-collar off; his secondary arms rubbing at his face, drawing down his neck as he breathed out.

Had he forsaken them? Forgotten what he was doing? That the skeksis were evil? He’d got caught up playing these silly games. What about UrSaat?

UrSaat, who he hadn’t spoken to in months.

Who he was neglecting?

Something thick and hot swelled in his throat, and SkekSept clutched at his scalp as it came upon him in aching waves.

He didn’t understand Jen’s grief. He didn’t know what a mother and a father was, and couldn’t understand that pain. But the guilt festered all the same.

He dragged the rest of his robes off, down to his undercoat, pale white and rather itchy. He draped them over a chair, and moved into the darkness, letting the soft wind blown in from the windows caress his feathers and skin.

He stretched out his other pair of arms, angled his head, and walked briskly into the old chambers.

Then down.

Past the Garthim holds, back to the sewers.

Here, old vehicles with enormous wheels sat covered in dust; broken contraptions belonging to long-dead Skeksis who were no longer around to explain to others how to use them.

“Not that they would.” SkekSept chimed to empty chamber.

He hopped over the rank water, choking down his nausea as he came to see that little gleam of sunlight from the empty moat surrounding the castle’s base.

He remembered crawling through it a few times, in and out …

Rocks scattered. SkekSept watched his footing.

Then he realised – the noise had come from ahead. Someone was there and being far more obvious than that old SkekSik was.

“… I smell death here.” A voice, soft and frightened, carried to him along the empty stone. SkekSept’s brows rose fluidly as he approached.

“Let’s keep going.”

… No. It couldn’t.

Something made a barking noise.

SkekSept’s gasp silenced the conversation at the mouth of the tunnel. Two figures stood, one carrying something fluffy and writhing.

One of them he knew.

_“… Jen?”_


	28. We Will Not Live Forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Great Conjunction Comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence warning!

_The story goes as so._

_SilSol created the song, the song that called. Far, afar away, a pair or particular young Urskeks heard the chime. Already they were outcasts, renegades and apart, for between them blossomed something unique – but no less pure._

_And they thought the world from which the song called offered refuge, but instead the Crystal was waiting to snare them._

_Ripping the fragile sight from one, and the courage from the other._

_Ripping the fragile memories away._

_But not the bond. For in these shards, the truth prevailed. Wounds will always try to heal themselves; flesh will try to grow anew. The Crystal. Corrupted as it was, **wanted**  to be healed._

_The story goes as **so.**_

_Now it is up to …_

_You._

_…_

“You!”

“You!”

The hairball in the girl’s hands was barking at him. He probably deserved it. The other gelfling – Kira, Jen had called her, was yanking the latter back and away from SkekSept. “Jen! Skeksis!”

“I know – I know him! Or knew – he left! To go and join the rest of them.”

Jen sounded incredulous – and angry. It was actually pretty funny, to hear this awkward young man sounding so peeved. SkekSept mentally shoved that thought away, raising all four hands,

“It was a plan – to take down the Chamberlain, SkekHdax and I – I never really …”

Kira’s eyes were burrowing into him, and his hands jerked nervously. “I swear. I don’t expect you to believe me. But – but someone else knows you’re here. The white skeksis – the older one, SkekSik!”

“… the one from the bogs?” Jen breathed, clarity hitting him. The two had stopped scrambling back and the strange little furry creature’s barks had simmered down to growls.

The girl seemed to be studying SkekSept, as if not quite sure what to make of him or trust him. Her stare was a bit off-putting.

“He told me to come find you. He’s sure … _something_  is going to happen.”

The three stood quietly, digesting this. SkekSept had an inkling, from their flickering eyes, that they knew what he was talking about.

Jen cocked his head, “Why did you come to meet us?”

“I told you. I’m not on their side. I never was. I  … I lost track. I was so angry with the Chamberlain for what he did to me, to UrSaat.”

Kira adjusted her grip on her … pet? “You knew the UrRu?” Her frown hadn’t quite vanished, but he caught the change in her tone.

SkekSept lowered his arms, head bent: shameful. “He … he was my friend. At the beginning all I ever thought of was him. And I got so caught up in revenge that I forgot why it upset me in the first place – SkekSil had  _hurt_ him. I could never forgive that.”

Another pause came between them. Kira let her pet down, and his growling had stopped.

“… How is he? UrSaat?”

Jen and Kira shared a look before the male gelfling spoke, with a little less curtness, “He is well. When I left he was constantly consulting the stones, in a ritual. About as restless as a Mystic can get.”

SkekSept would wager that. He frowned in thought, “… I wonder if he thinks something is coming, too…”

“It is.” Jen blurted. SkekSept’s head rose again. “We – we need to get to the crystal. Augrah and my Master said that everything must be done before the three suns align.”

SkekSept’s heart stammered.

Three suns. It couldn’t be…

But he felt it in his bones, yes, yes, this was right. He was frightened. But …

He glanced slowly over his shoulder, angling his head as if to listen. “… the other skeksis will kill you if they find you. They tried to do the same to me. And worse, before I became useful. But my friend has hiding places. She knows how to evade them.”

Kira’s brow creased and Jen helpfully piped up, “There’s another one, SkekHdax. They’re friends.”

Was he vouching for him? SkekSept felt oddly touched, but, they didn’t have time to linger. “I know you don’t trust me.”

He spoke to Kira then, looking the gelfling right in the eye, as earnest as possible. “But I want to keep you safe from them. I will.”

Something about her stirred those half-formed memories slithering in the back of his consciousness. That strange meld of trepidation and strength, and the pale hair, that reminded him of…

“… Jen, I think he’s telling the truth.” She murmured, to herself and her companion.

SkekSept glanced between them, and only noticed at that moment that their hands were clasped together.

Oh.

“… They will be having half-day meals soon. We have to get to the old wings before that.” SkekSept turned on his heel, and began to lead the way. They looked hesitant, so he added, “You can follow me, leave, or … or find your own way. But please be careful. They’re very dangerous.”

And he began up the tunnel again. The gelfling lingered at the mouth of the sewer, bleached light from outside pooling in.

With their furry hairball giving a decisive bark, he ambled forward. The two followed, careful to mind their footing in the dark

 

…

_SkekSept noticed of course, how the two gelfling seemed to huddle together, shoulder to shoulder, all gentle voices and words. Their interactions didn’t crash together or conflict; their talk seemed to bounce gently between them, like pebbles knocking together when tossed from an UrRu’s gentle grip._

_It reminded him on UrSaat even more._

_And in his chest, the ache returned._

_He barely knew them, but he wanted to protect their light. Undamaged, untorn, not like his. Perhaps if he saved them, there was a chance for himself and …_

_And …._

…

Kira was tense when SkekHdax slid up to meet them, as silent and steady as a shadow attached to SkekSept’s toes.

“Her tribe were different from the ones that helped you before,” Jen was telling SkekSept, “We rescued them outside.”

“The Slave Master will be in a temper.” The teal skeksis sounded a touch amused. He didn’t seem started by this yellow-haired prowler.

“SkekHdax, This is Jen and Kira –“

“I know what gelfling feet sound like.” The bronze one said, head tilted in contemplation. “The one with the walking stick came to chatter.”

“SkekSik?”

“Says he built this place, has passageways even the others don’t know about.”

Kira was observing the chamber. The slab that was once a bed – the trophies. Discomfort stirred in her chest, “…. I sense … bad things here.”

“This place can’t hurt you.” SkekHdax drawled, already sat on the slab and stretching out her arms, “Belonged to a creature long since dead.”

“Many dead things by the looks of it.” Jen noted, sounding a bit snarky. SkekSept glanced at the trophies, absently scratching at his arm-guard. Couldn’t argue.

“The podlings said there used to be more of them.” Kira mentioned, hand hovering over the feathery trophy, coated in dust. Not in admiration, but almost in grief.

“Eighteen.” SkekSept sighed.

Fizgig – the funny little hairball that was sniffing at their ankles, growled at the trophies, too.

After a pause, SkekSept raised his head, “SkekSik said he built this place?”

“Has he really betrayed them?” Jen wondered as well.

“Why, yes.”

All four of them gave a start, turning to face the newcomer. SkekSik was leant against the wall – Kira stared, for she was quite sure that passageway behind him wasn’t …

The stone moved. The wall shifted back into place with a scraping sound, and locked into position with a final thud. Passageways.

The elderly skeksis – indeed, he seemed far older than all the rest, snowy white like Ydra’s grandmother, looked very smug.

“Hello, my wayward youths, all assembled. The UrRu will not be far behind.” Jen opened his mouth, a confused question on his lips, but SkekSik rose a finger – silencing him effectively.

“In a day, the Great Conjunction comes. You mustn’t be too early. And mind SkekTek, for he has worse plans than death.”

“You make it sound like you won’t be joining us again.” SkekSept pointed out – indeed, these seemed like such instructions.

“Sharper than usual.” SkekSik chimed, smiling mildly, “I have some unfinished business. Wait one night. No more. They will begin a ceremony – you  _must i_ nterrupt it.”

The four young strays watched as he pressed the back of his hand against a brick. It receded in – and the wall opened once more.

He cast a look back at them as he hobbled inside.

An odd look took up his face then. SkekSept couldn’t place it, but he appeared conflicted.

“… goodbye. We will not meet again in this life.”

“… Perhaps in another.” Jen said. Quoting someone. SkekSik smiled. It was a tired smile, but it didn’t pull at his skin or make his face seemed ugly. No, for the first time – and only time – it was genuine.

He vanished into the hidden corridor, the rock sliding back in place to hide him.

They would not converse with the fallen architect again.

….

SkekSept watched Kira and Jen. They were leant against the wall; Jen’s head on her chest, her arms holding the young gelfling as they slept; faces tranquil. He wondered what they were dreaming about.

Back to back, he and SkekHdax sat on the slab and didn’t slumber.

“You miss him.”

A statement.

SkekSept closed his eyes.

“… It is not that I don’t care for you.”

“I know. More than I should. I should care about the other you just as much, but I tend to forget. It makes you the better soul.”

SkekSept frowned.

“I don’t think it is that simple.”

Was it guilt she felt? It was always hard to tell what she was feeling. That aloofness made his heart heavy.

The silence embraced them. In the dark, listening to the soft breathing of the nearby gelfling, it felt as though this moment was about to end. Like the walls themselves were telling the two that they ought to say something, before that moment died.

“I care for you. Do not forget.” SkekHdax said. In her quiet, blunt way.

SkekSept opened his eyes, and little dots of blue and purple danced across his vision as he stared into the black chamber.

…

Breathe in, and out. In and out. The cramping had long since turned his bad leg numb, and SkekSik had no choice but to lean against the wall, letting the cold stone calm his hot skin. He was tired, sick, aching, and he didn’t have long left.

Confound it all! Why did there have to be so many halls? He cursed his past self for such blasted ingenuity.

He closed his eyes, and let his heartbeat regulate.

Now. Onward –

He stepped out of the hidden hall, not considering his stumbling had been a little louder than his failing ears had intended.

A shadow loomed behind him.

A metallic hand clamped down on his beak; a flesh hand with harsh nails latched onto his shoulder, and he was hoisted back.

He had not counted on this.

With a heave, he was tossed to the ground in a painful heap; cane bouncing off to one side. A rough laugh rang above him, one that ended in a breathy hiss.

SkekTek.

Oh curses –

“Architect, you look  **thin**.” He leered, fingers flexing out and that eyeglass of his glinting viciously in the torchlight. “Not much left to you, slime face.”

“Scientist.” SkekSik breathed, slowly moving his hands under himself, trying to get up. “You are as hideous as ever, in the night or day, you do not please the eye.”

The skeksis cried out in pain as the scientist reached down to clutch the prongs and tendrils on his back, long since feather-less, to yank him up.

SkekTek’s metal hand coiled around SkekSik’s neck, and pressed.

Releasing his scruff the flesh hand joined it around his windpipe. The architect’s legs slipped against the stone. He could not get upright.

“You will not see the ceremony or live forever.” SkekTek hissed, hefting him up with Ludacris strength, so that his beak and vile breath was by his ear. SkekSik gurgled.  “You do not know how I have longed to end you myself.”

“…. You know, SkekTek,” SkekSik inhaled what little air he could, slowly going lax in his hold. He let go on the scientist’s gnarly hand, letting his arms fall …

And grip the tubes attaching the blood floor to his upper shoulder.

_“I could say the same!”_

With what little strength he had, he tore them out. SkekTek let him go and he collapsed as the scientist screeched, clutching at the spurting tubes and cursing.

SkekSik grabbed his cane and downright crawled forward, clutching the wall to force himself upright. His heart was ready to give out.

But it wasn’t to last, this act – SkekTek had jammed the tubes, damaged but still functional, back into place and started towards SkekSik again.

The architect could barely move.

“You have no had your essence in a long time, old friend. You cannot _survive_.”

“Never.” SkekSik gasped, “Never again.”

The claws came for him again.

_“NO!”_

Footsteps. What? No! Suns above and bones below, what were they doing here?!

The male gelfling got to the scientist first, ramming into his side – but he didn’t manage to knock him over. The skeksis snarled, swiping at him – but not in rage.

SkekSik saw that spark in his gaze, the smirk. He was pleased. They must’ve caught sight of them through the crystal bats after all … knew they were coming.

“Jen!” The girl was down the hall. The two young skeksis behind her, their faces pale and alarmed.

**_“GARTHIM!”_ **

… they were in for it, now.

SkekSik could barely stand, let alone try to call them off. The tell-tale rattling sound picked up from the hall opposite. Any moment now, the others would become privy to their little party’s visit.

The bronze youth barrelled forward towards the first of the oncoming horde. The teal one? He was not fat behind, using a spear he’d no doubt raided from SkekMal’s old store. Going for the eyes. Clever thing.

However, the gelfling were in trouble.

SkekTek had caught the male one by the hair and was yanking him away. The girl stumbled after them, her pet at her heels. “Jen!”

SkekSik clasped the brick beside him.

One, two three, he stepped along to follow. Painstakingly. Why? Why was he doing it? Perhaps SkekTek was right, he’d been off essence too long.

It addled your brain. Being un-addled and somewhat sane was too sobering.

But he went.

He wasn’t going to fail, so help him.

….

“The Garthim have awoken!”

The General shoved SkekAyuk and the Ornamentalist aside – they did not have time for this folly! The ceremony was not far away.

“Where is that blasted scientist?!”

SkekSil was on the other side of the throne room. And coincidentally, heard the yelling and clattering feet of the Garthim first.

…

SkekTek watched the essence drip into the vial with sickly pleasure. “Essence of gelfling,” He jeered. The animals chattered around them, as if in weak protest. Bah! Let them.

The gelfling was staring into the Crystal’s light, and already his cheeks sharpened, his eyes sunken in.

“ Ironic, and perhaps a good  _vengeance,_  that the one who had come to destroy us would –“

Behind him, someone crept up.

SkekTek had been unlucky to be standing at the shaft entrance; red hues spilling out into his lukewarm lab.

SkekSik let go of the wall.

Stepped forward.

And slammed directly into him. The two tumbled, knocking against the lever and shoving the mirrors directing the poisonous light into Jen’s face askew.

Jen gagged on the air in his throat.

The two skeksis stumbled to the shaft.

The scientist fell directly into the pit. SkekSik landed halfway; his arms hung over the side and head hanging directly over the steam, while his former cohort plummeted down.

The scream died in the fire, with a sickening sizzle.

SkekSik let himself slump.

….

In the chaos, they had lost the gelflings, and gotten separated.

Kira was looking for Jen. And vice versa.

SkekHdax was looking for SkekSept. And vice versa.

Fate lead them to the Crystal Chamber.

Jen, weak and drained, followed the group of skeksis he’d seen striding to the chamber with their sceptres in toe. They didn’t seem to care that one of their number was not among them. SkekSik was slung over his shoulder, barely moving, but breathing. He must be there, too.

….

Outside, the UrRu sang, and the Garthim stepped aside.

At the front of the group, UrSaat was standing with more resolve than ever before. UrOnze was behind him, watching quietly as the grab-like monstrosity grew dormant.

_…_

_SkekSept hated, hated this chamber._

He pressed his back against a pillar, listening to the crinkle and sweeping of the skeksis’ robes, as they took position in a circle.

It smelled of sulphur and blood in here. He glanced around the rocky formation to catch a glimpse.

And saw someone trying to get his attention. Kira was on the mezzanine – the balcony on the upper floor overlooking the Crystal.

She was looking at him, breathing hard and ducking down to avoid detection now that he’d seen her in turn … but then her head lifted, lips parting. She’d seen someone else.

Across from Kira, above SkekSept’s position, Jen had stumbled out with SkekSik in toe.

“Kira?”

“Jen!”

The two lifted their hands.

Reaching, reaching.

“The Great Conjunction Comes!”

SkekZok. All four of them winced. _“Now! We will live …. Forever!”_  
  
The chant was final, and triumphant, and full of purpose. Their voices became one terrible tone, echoing up through the open shafts above. SkekSept stared skyward; hand rising to block out the sunlight; though his fingers he saw the three, bold and blurry against the stark sky. They were almost in a straight line. Their light shrouded the entire chamber in a deadly red hue. Like blood seeping into your eyes.  
  
 _"We will live forever!"_  
  
So this was their goal?  
  
 _"We will live forever!"_

SkekSept stepped out from hiding, too transfixed to stop himself. As if the light had drawn him out. The chant pulled at him. Forever? Is that –

Up above,  the sound had finally gotten through the haze in the architect's skull. SkekSik’s eyes flew open,stricken.  _“Stop them!”_

He’d wanted to warn them, to cease this deadly ceremony … but in doing so, had alerted the skeksis of their whereabouts. SkekSil saw them first. His high-pitched gasp sent off a wave. “Look!”

Oh no.

“Gelfling!”

“Gelfling –“

“They will destroy us!”

“Architect?!”

He had to stop this. SkekSept hurled himself forward, going for SkekZok – if it was a ritual, then ritual master was first on the list. The throng snarled and hissed as he dove through them, but Chermblain blocked the way, swiping at the boy with his sceptre.

“Back so soon, my  _dear?!”_

Him, of all beings! SkekSept seethed, his stance violent, “Get out of my way, Chamberlain, so help me –“ He truly believed that he could rip the elder's tongue out now, with the energy soaring through him in his panic.

“What can  _you_  do?” SkekSil crooned,like a snake ready to rip out a throat - equally bloodthirsty. 

“We should not have trusted that traitorous little – “ SkekOk’s bold words cut off in a yell. A golden-haired menace had propelled off the balcony above, landing to his right – and elbowing him aside. He practically flew. Oh thank ....

“SkekHdax!”

“Enough!” SkekUng was frenzied; roughly wiping a slather of spit from his chin, so angry he was _spitting_ , “Garthim soldiers!”

“Garthim!” SkekShod called as well – to be echoed by the rest of the elders, and the black bulbous forms appeared at every entrance to that wretched room.

Chaos. Absolute chaos. 

On the balcony, SkekSik pressed his hand into Jen’s back.

_“Jump.”_

No time to argue.

The Garthim ignored the crumpled heap that was SkekSik, who Jen had no choice but to drop when he leaped from the overhang.

Jen landed hard. The upper cut of the crystal jammed against his side; the pain shot through his ribs. He scrambled to find purchase on it –

And the shard slipped.

The sound of it clattering to the stone floor cut through the skeksis’ frenzied, furious hissing. SkekHdax was the first one to move.  She dove, narrowly missing SkekEkt’s snatching grip, her four hands clawing at the stone – but the shard was knocked clean from her grasp!

It skittered along the floor. Above, Kira gasped.

“The shard!”

SkekUng threw his sceptre aside and made for it.

_No!_

SkekHdax lunged back into the fray, her shriek ending in a snarl as she threw herself onto the General’s back – he thrashed. Her hands tore at his face, his shoulders; her arms were sliced by the metal shoulder-plates. The General actually bit at them; large beak snapping just shy of their wrist.

 _“AWAY,_ you  **wretch!”**

And he threw her off. SkekSept’s insides twisted in anguish as she toppled across the floor to ram against the pillar beneath the mezzanine.  The force of it sent a crack up the stone.  ** _“No!”_** Jen gawked, outstretching a hand to it –

Kira leaped from the overhanging balcony, wings fluttering out. SkekSept shoved SkekOk aside. She managed to snag it, bolting back upright. SkekSept’s face blanched. What was she doing?!

They were closing in. She rotated on the spot, like a cornered mouse, both terrified yet hysterically furious as the vultures came for her.

 _Tall and with outstretching hands._  Kira lashed out; crystal poised like a dagger – but she didn’t land a blow. Part of her was still recoiling, unconsciously too afraid to actually get near enough to them. The skeksis drew back. She swung it again with a cry.

“Give us the  _shard_ , and you can go free!”

She whirled around, hair flying, voice a husky rip from her throat. Chamberlain outstretches his arms, but there was no way his ploy would work now. SkekSept stumbled away from the Ritual Master, whose pale eyes were bearing right into him – he was clutching a dagger in his hand.

There would be no bargaining here. The skeksis were like animals. SkekSept and Kira moved in a circular motion, back to back, hackles raised. Time was slipping away, away, what where they to do –

“No!” Kira croaked, the word blaring in all their heads. Desperate.

Closer.

“Yes!” Jen cried from above, “Just don’t harm her!”

_Don’t harm her, please –_

_Not her, please, anything, not her –_

Jen and SkekSept, their thoughts were one. Why hadn’t SkekHdax gotten back up? SkekSept heaved a breath and strained his neck to look through the throng of their enemies.

She was still by the pillar and she was not moving. His fear exploded in his chest, the blood in his hands and feet flared, his neck grew cold, the **horror**  that grasped him was maddening.

Closer.

“No, Jen!”

Kira had turned. Their elbows bumped together, she clasped the shard between her hands and …. And …

SkekSept watched as the terror bled out of her. As her body grew calm, her voice nearly tranquil. For she knew what had to be done.

And in his mind’s eye, the young skeksis saw his companion lying against the pillar, gold hair spread to hide their face. Jen reaching desperately from atop the cursed purple gem.

Kira threw the shard.

And the Ritual Master raised his dagger high. Time had slowed.

This was not how the story would go.

SkekSept breathed in. He heard his own inhale, it muffled everything else against his ears and blurred his vision. He let his body go. And with a sway, he stepped to one side, between the gelfling and SkekZok.

The blade tore into him below the chest.

Just as SkekHdax was raising her head up again.

Everyone present went still. The shard twinkled as it flew; dipped in the air to fall back to Jen, landing snugly in his hand.

He saw through the shard’s facets: the image of SkekSept’s rigid body, the blade buried in his torso all the way to the hilt. The Ritual Master’s wide eyes and stiff brows. How all the skeksis were staring, mute at the sight.

Kira’s face had crumpled, her lips had moved but she couldn’t manage to shriek or cry, or  _anything_. SkekSept stared down at the hilt. SkekZok’s hand slipped away from it – and the boy stepped back.

Three steps. His breath came shaky and soft.

SkekHdax reached out with a battered hand, hair a tussle around her face and beak. She heard him gasping, the tremor in how he moved. She’d  _heard_  the stab. Eyes wide, unseeing but straining to.

But SkekSept didn’t managed to turn. Didn’t manage to look at her one last time. His knees hit the unforgiving cold floor. Then he sank, slowly, onto his side.

Blue eyes slid shut.  _He saw colours, and hazy figures, and remembered the night of his birth, the thunder and the naked burn on his skin, the cold floor. Cold._

His body deflated and lay still.


	29. In Its Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to come home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Ending one...)

The Shard of Truth

 

UrOnze fell quietly to the hall floor. The other UrRu, already having witnessed the demise of one of their ranks, regarded him solemnly, but without grief. It was only UrSaat, poised at the head of the group, that stopped.

Inhaling deeply, he turned to stride back to the corpse, and lift it in his arms. It was almost there, the grief. Brimming below the surface, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough. Something was missing.

Already, the others were ambling past them both. They had no time to wait. UrOnze’s limbs hung heavy towards the stone below. Face peaceful and empty in death.

…

The shouting had stopped. The calls, the threats. The skeksis assembled regarded the sight before them, speechless. Kira, distraught, knelt by the body.

Jen was shaking. He gripped the shard so tight it cut into his palm. _They … they’d … they had murdered him. He was dead._ The sight of it was pulled and twisted through the shape of the crystal shard in his hand.

As he stared, another brief image, like the one he’d seen weeks back – of someone swinging something heavy towards the Crystal – appeared.

It showed…

Two hands, reaching out, and clasping.

The gelfling drew himself up just as SkekHdax was half walking, half crawling, to SkekSept’s side. With trembling arms, she drew him to her, his head lolled against her shoulder. Indescribable noises, half-made and broken, dripped from her beak. The skeksis looked on, completely distracted, they didn’t seem to recall Jen was up there.

They had seen their ranks die before. This was nothing new. But it had been a while, and it was always jarring, deep within their cores.

The Chamberlain could not pinpoint his feelings. As the stared at SkekSept’s face, he thought about how much of a waste it was, and perhaps felt frustrated or even angry. It was an eerie feeling. SkekEkt had placed his hand against his chest, his expression equally unreadable and undetermined.

The Ritual Master had composed himself, and was frowning faintly. He didn’t look ready to apologise.

The silence, punctuated only by SkekHdax’s grief, shattered. A sound like lightning, only drawn out and higher, drew them all about.

The three suns had aligned. The spark of horror returned as a stark beam of like shot down from the open shaft above – directly into the Crystal.

The gelfling had raised the shard high.

“Gelfling –

“No –“

“Gelfling – “

Reduced to pleas, and begging, and terror. SkekHdax ignored them all. She heard it, heard the end coming for them with terrifying grace, but cared not. Was it death then? Is that what the alternative the Crystal had in mind? Obliterate the skeksis, for they surely deserved it?

_Together, it was meant._

_She was drowning, and didn’t fight. Sinking, sinking, there was no bottom._

We should not have come here, she thought, as peace came upon her. For death was near, and in death, she would be with him again. She’d accept not other way.

“Go on then, gelfling.”

Jen screamed. He jammed the shard back into place. Sparks erupted from all around. Kira threw herself forward to break his fall, for the impact had blasted Jen clean off the Crystal’s head.

A shudder unlike anything the castle had ever known broke out below them. And the skeksis could only panic. The Chamberlain saw no other alternative but to flee –

“The UrRu!”

SkekHdax’s head snapped up, wet streaks glinting in the light – she felt sunlight on her cheek. Unbeknown to her …. The walls were peeling off, like a hard shell of a nut. Light was pouring in, like spotlights, unforgiving.

A hum accompanied the rumble of the castle; a choir of anarchy and entropy.

_UrSaat stepped into –_

_She stepped into –_

In pieces it came - fragmented synchronisation between their thoughts. UrSaat was moving towards her. The skeksis saw it. Saw the two pieces coming close, closer together.

Chamberlain’s fury flared. If they were to be damned, he would not let them win! Snatching the sceptre from his feet he made forward, going for those dratted mystics – toss them into the pit like they’d done with one of the eighteen all those years ago!

_Just like he’d shrieked **never** , and shattered that blasted crystal himself! He broke it once, he could break it again!_

But as he moved forward, he felt it too – UrSol was drawing close to him from behind, humming blandly.

Too late.

SkekHdax was on her feet, SkekSept cradled in her arms with far more care than the Mystics had, and he could only regard them as the pair of pairs came to meet.

Arms outstretched. All four of them entwined; hands clasping shoulders in embrace.

The beams shot from the crystal.

Blocked off by the UrRu, the fleeing skeksis looked over their shoulders to watch, transfixed, as the four stood at the Crystal’s figurative feet were augmented by its light.

The purple light shifted into white, pure and clean.

The outlines of the four disappeared and moulded into one. Rising up, up, to overlook them all.

Only then did it split into two. Not four.

With a _deafening sweep,_ the two UrSkeks emerged from the light, in perfect unison their heads whipped back, arms outstretched, as if bursting from a cocoon. The fabric of their long, billowing sleeves flared out. The sound was like the beat of an ancient creature’s wings. The rest of their robes seemed to materialise as they came into being. Their head-prongs and antlers – one of which was coiling and curled much like SkekSept’s hair – extended up and out like blooming flowers.

They hovered there, still like ghosts.

They did not fold their arms over their chests, in the usually done way. Instead, their eyes blink, comprehension bleeding into them.

Then they turned to face one another.

Emotion wasn’t common among the UrSkeks. But the onlookers saw it – in their strange, elongated faces, pure and unaltered joy twinkled. Quiet rejoice.

Their arms reached out; their hands pressed palm to palm, fingers entwining.

_“You.”_

_“And I.”_

…

_They remembered now. They were SeptOnze and SaatHdax. The novices, the runaways, the lovers. SaatHdax was fierce and clever and vengeful, calm and collected. SeptOnze was emotional and witty, wry and stubborn._

_How they found comfort in shared interests, how alive they felt when they allowed their emotions to run free. Frowned upon though it was._

_They had studied the journey of the Eighteen Banished, and curiosity had drawn them to this planet, Thra, to seek them out._

_And perhaps redeem them, and being them home._

_Torn apart, yet still together._

_They were in love, a love that sang through their souls, and could not be defeated._

_…_

If The Great Conjunction petrified the skeksis, it was nothing compared to how they looked in the audience of the UrSkeks. Gone were the children, before them stood everything they forbade and forgot. The utter opposite of their entire mindset.

Harrowing, to say the least. Even the Ritual Master was cowering.

SkekSil could hardly breathe.

Jen and Kira strode quietly, In wonder and smiling a tad, to stand adjacent to them. They weren’t afraid. Not of the skeksis, not of the glowing beings above. They knew in their hearts that all was well.

Slowly, the duo turned to face them again.

 _“… Thanks to your courage, and sacrifice, we are whole again.”_ SaatHdax said.

“You’re alive.” Kira breathed, a laugh bubbling in her voice. The smaller Urskek – dear Sept’s eyes glimmered somewhere in them.

 _“Thanks to you._ ” SeptOnze said. _“In our young and silly studies, we grew to admire and adhere to the escapades of the eighteen banished. In our lack of foresight, we sought to bring them home, and perhaps change the outlook of our brethren. We hoped that they could prove the reality of emotion. Of faults and of virtues, and the harmony of them.”_

Ever the one to let SeptOnze do the talking, SaatHdax simply nodded solemnly.

Then, their heads turned to the skeksis, who stared back with bated breath.

_“SilSol. Your song was what called to us. You wanted to be true to yourself, but let your fear twist you.”_

No answer. How could SkekSil answer?

_“It is time to come home.”_

…

And in one instance, they did.

In that time, SkekSik drew himself up, and wilfully looked into the light, to catch the beam that would join he and UrSot. SotSik re-joined his young companions without much fuss at all. It was calming to the skeksis elder – to gently let go, and rest that part of him, so his old self could awaken again.

And the rest followed with far less agreement. The light had caught them like fish by spears, and drew them back to their other halves –

And suddenly, after hundreds of years, SilSol was conscious again.

…

_“Now we leave you the Crystal of Truth. Make your world in its light._

_…_

SilSol stood before SeptOnze, though the latter was a tad smaller and younger, looking up at him with amused, if reproachful eyes.

“I am sorry for my folly.”

“The promise was that you’d master your darker selves. But now I see such things are not so easy. You were in grief. You missed home.”

“I have done great evil.”

“And leaving is the best repentance. Thra has seen enough of our meddling. Our own world isn’t perfect as we believe it be so. Come, brother. Let us go home.”

The journey would not be spent by his side, however.

SeptOnze drifted back to SaatHdax. Their brows came to rest together, hands liked once more. Eye to eye.

Kira and Jen, watching below, clasped their hands together as all twelve soared into the sky, and disappeared in a flare of sunlight. Leaving the quiet castle in peace.

_…_


End file.
